


Bending the Arrow

by Batkatbrown



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Acting, Angst, Bodyguard, Bottom!Hanzo, Drama, Fake Dating, Gang Violence, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Power Imbalance, Slow Burn, Yakuza, i promise there is a happy ending, movie star, the slowest of burns, top!Jesse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 93,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batkatbrown/pseuds/Batkatbrown
Summary: Hanzo Shimada lives a dangerous double life as star actor and Prince of the Shimada-Gumi. Jesse came to Japan to get his arm fixed and the price is his service to the Shimada clan. Right now that is acting as bodyguard to a dramatic little fucker who has become his friend.When Hanzo's secret life almost is discovered, Jesse finds himself getting a promotion. To fiancé to distract the press!





	1. Chapter 1

Blood dripped down the wall.

Music heavy and syrupy was throbbing, filling the penthouse apartment with life that was no longer present. Ice cubes slowly melting on the hardwoods. The crystal tumbler was shattered and whiskey oozing into the pool of red.

This high up, no one would see what had transpired through floor to ceiling glass windows. The skyscraper half hidden in swirling clouds of mist, overlooking the wild open sea. The never ending stream of prostitutes, drug dealers and politicians moving in and out of the hotel flowing tonight.

One less guest with them now.

“Nice shot,” Jesse whistled, standing at the edge of the mess as he examined the kill. The middle aged Japanese business man was pinned to the wall through his head by an arrow. Bodies were slumped from the front door to the boss, some with arrows sticking out of them and the others Jesse had taken care of with a knife. 

“It was a little to the right,” Hanzo grumbled, looking around the insane suite. He was here for the Shimada clan. 

“Your fans would never believe what you get up to,” Jesse chuckled, hooking his thumbs through his black belt. 

Hanzo grunted.

“The famous Hattori Hanzo, darling of the silver screen,” Jesse checked the pockets of the dead. “Actually a trained assassin, first son of the Shimada-gumi. Using his power and fame to spy -“

He was cut off by the twang of a bow string and an arrow almost grazing him in warning. His boss a dramatic little fucker. Which played well for the media that was constantly hunting him. The reclusive and mysterious Hattori Hanzo, private to the point of oddity.

“What are we lookin’ for again?” Jesse followed his boss into the main bedroom. He whistled, vaulted ceilings and walls covered in velvet drapes absorbed the sound. The four poster bed was big enough for a half dozen people. It probably had recently had that many and more in it.

“Information.”

“So like… a computer or flashdrive?” McCree rifled through the man’s desk, not seeing much. Papers written in Kanji and some in languages he couldn’t guess at. There were photos too but not of Genji. Lots of girls. 

Jesse moved on from the desk, going to look through the bookshelf. He tested for false books but came up empty. “Any ideas where it might be stashed?”

“No, or I would already have found it.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. The apartment was huge, it would take forever to search it even with two people. He was afraid they might not find it at all before the morning cleaners came around. They had to be gone before then, long gone. 

He checked under statues and behind massive paintings. Hanzo was throwing things in the next room over. Jesse sighed, flopping down on the orgy bed.

_If I was a sex crazed, drug addict, pervert, where would I hide my blackmail?_ He closed his eyes, just thinking on their problem. It wouldn’t be somewhere obvious. This guy had money. This guy got off on power and degrading people’s humanity by making them do what he desired.

His eyes popped open, searching the canopy above him. Thick velvet gathered in swooshes and swirls before spilling over the heavy carved ivory frame. He slowly stood up, fighting for balance in the squishy bed. Japanese cursing intensified in the other room. He closed his eyes again, fingertips brushing over the intricately carved pattern. Feeling for what his gaze couldn’t detect. There had to be something, some slight irregularity.

He followed the frame around the bed, starting to feel foolish. “We are running out of time.” Hanzo had appeared next to the bed. Jesse ignored him, almost done with his sweep. “Come help me tip the stone lion over.”

“One second, Pardner,” he mumbled, fingers caressing the carving as he rounded the last corner. _There!_ Something was off, the texture changing just the smallest amount. He opened his eyes, sliding his fingers into the dips. There was a click and a panel of the ivory fell out. 

A triumphant smile broke over his face as he pulled out a gold plated flash drive. “Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner,” he crowed, jumping down from the bed.

“You have done well.” Hanzo somehow got the flash drive out of his hand without him even realizing. “We must make haste.”

Like a wisp of smoke, the man was out of the room, even his steps silent. _Fucking ninja,_ he rolled his eyes as he followed. Before coming to this strange country, he wouldn't have believed any of it. Magical Dragons and ancient spirits and real life ninja clans.

His boss only paused to check his hair in the mirror by the door before opening it. The building’s security system had already been hacked, overtaken by their powerful spy master. They would literally stroll out, Hanzo’s storm bow packed into a suitcase in his hand. Jesse’s sixshooter tucked away in a shoulder harness under his jacket. They both kept their heads down anyway.

The sounds of merriment and worse filtered around them in the hall. Closed doors hiding away the cities worst secrets and some not so well kept. Everyone knew what there was to be had in this building, something for everyone no matter how strange their tastes. Trysts and drug parties of the rich and famous.

They took the elevator down for its speed, standing in the corner, Jesse slightly in front of his boss resting his weight on the balls of his feet. They weren’t out of danger yet. They wouldn’t be till they had snuck back into the house Hanzo was renting while they filmed along the coast. 

The elevator started to slow and came to a stop on the third floor.

They exchanged glances and Jesse stepped even closer to his boss. He would be a physical shield if he had to. The elevator dinged once, twice and on the third time the doors opened. A young man, probably in his late twenties stepped on. He was dressed in an oversized hoodie with a snapback and flashy sneakers. 

Hanzo was rigid at his shoulder. His head down, hair in his face. Jesse had a feeling he should recognize the man but he didn’t. He nodded in acknowledgement. The man just shrugged but before the doors could close, a slight woman with a camera slipped inside.

Rapid Japanese flashed between them, the man sounding vaguely harassed but more than that Jesse couldn’t tell. Hanzo didn’t seem to be even breathing. The woman was snapping photos from every angle she could get, giving that sexy begging expression that seemed popular here. She had her cell in her other hand, tapping out notes with startling speed.

And then she froze, big eyes turning sharp and cunning. Her voice clipped out in a rush, stepping away from the hiphop singer. Her Japanese too fast for Jesse to even guess out other than “Hattori Hanzo?”

Jesse stepped in front of her, blocking Hanzo from view. “Ma’am, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

She glared at him, the elevator dinging behind her. They were on the first floor.

Hanzo’s hand was suddenly in the back of Jesse’s shirt, holding him back.

The doors opened and the world went white. He didn’t have time to cover his eyes as dozens of camera flashes went off, flooding every corner of the elevator as a swarm of paparazzi descended on the apparently famous musician they had been riding down with. He stepped out, preening and flaunting himself, singing… rapping? something in Japanese. 

The fingers pressed into his back were shaking. Would they be caught before the body was cold in the room far above? 

Gasps and screams of excitement, the name Hattori Hanzo reverberating on his eardrums. “Oh shit.” Jesse tried to block his boss with his body but the tide had turned. The musician was forgotten. The hungry jackals of the tabloids surging into the elevator to see what the reclusive, ultra private actor was doing in a notorious hotel. One that had a dead body of a blackmailing bastard in it.

Hanzo barked something from behind him and there was a moment of quiet and shuffling. One man came forward, “Mr. hattori,” he was speaking english. “Why are you here, who is your companion?”

Jesse realized Hanzo was trying to let him in on what was happening so he could react appropriately.

“I do not wish to answer personal questions.”

A flurry of outrage and huffing.

“Can we assume, you were meeting a business client here?”

“Who is she? Were you meeting with women here?” 

“American, were they hooker?”

“Underaged?”

“How many?”

“Is he your lover?”

The questions engulfed them, swirling and crashing. There was a dead body above them. Why were they here. “Who is the American?” there was a frantic clicking of fingers on phones. “What are you doing here with him? Does miss Akira know?”

Jesse would have burst through the crowd, opening the path for Hanzo but his shirt was still caught in the man’s hands. Like a dog on a leash.

“Is he hooker? Hooker, what is name? How much he pay?”

“Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice was just barely audible above it all. He tilted his head back, turning to give Hanzo better access to his ear. “Please play along.”

_What in tarnation?_ He frowned before he was shoved forward. He half stumbled, knocking into the nearest ‘journalist’ before catching himself. Hanzo was at his side just as suddenly. 

Jesse’s waist was captured by a strong arm, yanked hard into Hanzo’s hip. “Silence,” the elevator went quiet. Hanzo made a shooing gesture and the crowds began to part. “This man, is my fiancé.”

_What the fuck?_ Jesse didn't have time to think as a gasp rocked the crowd followed by an explosion of camera clicks and flashes. Jesse’s heart staggered, lurching to a mad pace as the beautiful man cuddled into his side. The heavenly smell of his hair wafting up to him as Hanzo put his head on his chest tenderly. His body reacting instinctually, wrapping his arms around Hanzo’s hips. He pulled him tighter, head lowering to rest his cheek on top of his boss’s head.

The man was an actor, melting into him in a scandalous display for these reserved people. “Shucks, Darlin’,” he nosed into Hanzo’s hair instinctively. “I guess the secret’s out.”

The crowd burst with excitement, pressing in to try to get access on the breaking news. Hanzo’s hand trailed over his hips before digging in. Jesse understood, gaze hardening and straightening to his full height. He towered over the crowd, stepping forward with an arm outstretched.

The journalists started to part and they walked out, the prickling of attention on their backs. Jesse didn’t rush, hand stroking over his boss’s shoulder in a comforting manner. They would be in the papers tomorrow. Just hopefully not for murder.

A gay scandal seemed far more agreeable. 

Jesse waved down a cab, amazed that Hanzo was so calm and relaxed. Part of being an actor full time, he was probably another person right now. 

The taxi pulled up to the curb, a nice one in this part of town.

“Open the door for me,” Hanzo murmured, voice low in an effort for privacy.

Jesse rolled his eyes, wanting to tell the man to fuck off. It was clear now that he was Hanzo’s bitch in their relationship. He stepped into the street and into a puddle, opening the door and ushering his “lover” in. Hanzo began to step but he reached up, catching him in the chest.

“Wait honeybun,” he swept off his jacket and laid it down over the puddle like an old school romanic movie. “I would hate for you to ruin your shoes.” 

Hanzo’s face was unreadable as he eased himself down and entered the taxi. He tucked his delicate feet inside and Jesse closed the door with a soft click.

There were questions yelled at him in Japanese, photos clicking away with flashes of light. He grinned wide for them, pouring all his charm into it. “What can I say, I would do anything for my love.” He pressed a hand to his chest while looking down demurely. It would make a nice photo before turning to go to the other side and letting himself in.

They buckled up and the car took off. The city streamed by in technicolor streaks, the neon from signs all blending together. Even in the middle of the night, crowds surged on the sidewalks and traffic was thick. 

Giant billboards illuminated the sky, playing commercials on endless loops. Hanzo’s face was on one as they waited at a red light. A promo for a perfume’s launch, styled to the nines in cutting edge fashion, red eyeliner a dramatic pop. He shirt open displaying a gorgeously muscled chest as two equally gorgeous women danced beside him.

“You look like a douche in that one,” Jesse pointed it out.

Hanzo glared at him. “How kind of you to say.”

The car started moving again, beeping behind them from some impatient soul.

Jesse drummed his fingers on his knee. Feeling cramped in the small taxi. Hanzo was tensed, head slightly down. The muscle in his high cheekbone was twitching.

“So…” he started but Hanzo held up a hand. His eyes flicked to the divider. It wasn’t safe to talk here. “I know that was not how we’d talked about telling people.” He put a hand on Hanzo’s knee.

The briefest flicker of what was probably outrage and then that cool facade. “It was unfortunate.” he sighed, all the hard edges melting away. “But perhaps it is better this way.”

Jesse absently rubbed his thumb against the warm flesh and fabric below it. “At least we won’t have to keep sneaking around.”

“Hmm,” Hanzo patted the hand on his leg, looking out the window. “We will get through this together.”

Jesse wasn’t so sure of that though, giving a squeeze before taking his hand back. He was just a hired gun. If things went south, he’d be in a dumpster without remorse. As the world shifted away from cityscapes to gently rolling hills, he considered his options. There was always bolting from the country. If he was fast enough, he could get stowed away on a cargo ship headed for the Americas. Flying would be too dangerous. Abandoning his post to a Shimada Prince would make him an enemy. He had disappeared several times over his 37 years, emerging with a new name and new background each time. It was a painful process, being reborn.

He could ask to be released from his duties. Hanzo might even let him go but the bridges would be scorched to the ground. Staying and pretending to be the man’s boytoy would be a pain in his ass but he could still keep him safe. It would be easier to do that as a partner, he could be at his side constantly and in intimate spaces like dressing rooms and behind closed door meetings.

It didn't hurt that Hanzo was everything he could ever dream of in a man. It would have been tempting to try to see what he could get away with under the guise of acting if the man hadn’t been straight as one of his arrows. 

The cab finally pulled up to the small house Hanzo was renting while filming Red Tide Rising. It was close to the main location in the movie, the castle and woods of an ancient family. The coast pushed in here, beautiful sandy beaches giving way to rocky cliffs and tormented waves.

The high walls of the traditional style compound offered privacy not available in hotels and fit the persona Hanzo had cultivated so carefully. The man was sitting still, seeming lost in thought. His hands folded neatly in his lap, expression void.

Jesse rolled his eyes. Meditating probably. He got out with a huff, going to the driver and paying the massive bill on his boss’s card and gave a nice tip. He knew that they would probably still end up on the tabloids that they had gone to the same residence. 

The cabbie tipped his hat and turned his gaze away. Everyone was so damn unwilling to make eye contact. He sighed, starting towards the massive gate before realizing Hanzo wasn’t following him. 

“Jesus christ,” he threw his hands up, turning on his heel and going back to the car. He pulled Hanzo’s door open with more force than was really necessary. “My lord,” he offered his hand to the little princess. 

To his surprise, Hanzo slipped his long fingers around it, rising with practiced grace. “Thank you,” he murmured, leading the way now with fast sure steps. 

 

—-

 

They sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling above the inner courtyard’s zen garden. The carefully raked sands tended to by the old couple that maintained the property. Small boulders dotted the scape along with a series of ancient bells that sang in the gentle breeze. The square compound housed rooms for many families to take, hidden away behind traditional screens.

Paper lanterns dangled across the courtyard in lazy zigzags, giving warm light even now in the middle of the night.

Jesse’s legs were too long, feet dragging in the pristine sands. They had long taken off their shoes and a bottle of sake sat between them. Jesse served out of habit. He was waiting for his boss to work through whatever storm was brewing in his head. The Shimada-gumi had already been called and brought up to speed. The flash drive given to a trusted courier to take to be decoded and the information distributed to the right channels.

The sake burned pleasantly in his throat, smooth and silky compared to his normal cheap whisky. Hanzo wasn’t drinking, not really. He sipped at it, savoring it. Or hating it, it was hard to tell by his expression alone.

“I am afraid, I have taken advantage of you, Jesse.” The lantern light was soft on high cheekbones, like streaks of gold. 

“How do ya reckon boss?” He downed another saucer of alcohol and offered to refill Hanzo’s cup. 

That got him a glare and a roll of the eyes. But there was a rarely glimpsed fondness there. Over the year they had worked together, Jesse liked to think they were almost friends.

“I hired you to protect me.”

“And to keep my mouth shut about The Dragons,” he cut in, earning him look of distaste.

“To keep my secret and my family’s secret, yes.” the Japanese man muttered to himself in his native tongue. “I did not employ you to be my lover.”

Jesse chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Never been the type though I’ve gotten offers for this stud-muffin,” he turned his most charming smile on the smaller man. He didn’t expect Hanzo to actually huff, a close thing to a laugh for him. 

“You are at least, believable,” Hanzo took another sip. “You missed your calling on the screen.”

“Aw shucks, I’m flattered.”

“I would not have tried the ruse if I had doubts as to your intelligence or pokerface.”

“Now you’re just tryin’ to butter me up.”

There was a pause in the friendly exchange. Jesse glanced over, saucer to his lips.

“Why… would I want to put butter on you?”

He fought down a snort, pulling himself in to a neutral expression. “Oh you know, the typical reason.”

Tilted eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was a light blush on his cheeks. If it was from drinking alcohol or awkwardness, he didn’t know. The man pulled out his cellphone, tapping away rapidly.

Jesse just sipped, the tightness in his chest was easing. No cops had showed up and the Shimada-gumi hadn’t given them orders to return to the castle. And he had gotten one over on his boss with the little turn of phrase. Hanzo was annoyingly proud of his command of the english language sometimes, and just proud of himself. It was always fun to see him having to look something up.

He always looked it up now after an embarrassing incident.

“Your language is ridiculous,” Hanzo huffed, setting the phone down and picking up his cup. “I still do not understand how buttering one up is to flatter them.”

Jesse smirked, reaching into his breast pocket to pull out a cigar. “Mind?” Hanzo shook his head and offered a light, custom carved lighter giving up it’s flame. He leaned in, breathing in the flare of destruction deep into his lungs. It burned in just the right way. His eyes flicked up to find Hanzo studying him with almost painful intensity.

“Got somethin’ on my face?” he spoke around the cigar, reaching up self consciously.

“No,” Hanzo didn’t look away. “You are an intriguing man, Mr McCree.”

“I can say the same for yourself.”

A rapid exchange of smiles.

“We should discuss, the strategy of our new situation.”

“Can’t it wait till th’morning?” 

“Very well.”

They fell back into comfortable silence, sharing the bottle, lost to their own thoughts.

 

—-

 

“Thank you,” Jesse smiled up at the elderly woman serving them breakfast. It was traditional as was the standard for the house. Rice, steamed miso and grilled fish today. And for him, big slabs of toasted bread and over easy eggs. “You’re too good t’me.” The woman was blushing just a little, waving him off as she giggled. “I can’t thank you enough.” He caught himself, remembering not everyone spoke english. He had picked up a little. He bowed his head, hands together. “Arigatōgozaimashita.”

She gave the cutest little laugh, shifting from foot to foot. 

“Decent pronunciation,” Hanzo murmured, seeming surprised with a cup of green tea half way to his lips. “You have been practicing.”

“I ain’t a total jackass, i’m trying t’be respectful of the culture while i’m here.”

Hanzo just delicately lifted his brows in response, serene. The silken strands of his hair pulled neatly into a high ponytail, little silver wings shaped perfectly. He was wearing a silken kimono that probably cost more than Jesse’s life. It was opened at the chest, wider than it should be. 

His chest was smooth and supple, tantalizing as it rose and fell. The column of throat so elegant, the veins moving subtly under the skin as he breathed in the aroma of matcha. 

“Stop staring at me.”

Jesse rolled his eyes away. “Then don’t go showing half your chest first thing in the morning.”

“And here I thought you Americans were so liberated with your bodies.”

“Not in the morning,” Jesse dug in to his own plate. He was always so hungry after a late night of drinking. “and not over breakfast.”

“This is a strategy meeting.”

“That only makes it worse.”

Hanzo shrugged, delicately sipping his tea. “We need to discuss… how this will work.”

Jesse nodded, shoveling rice onto of his slice of toast in a display that must have been making Hanzo shudder. “Me being your lover and all.”

The man pressed his eyes together tightly as if begging for patience. “Yes, you being my fiancé. It is already all over the internet and everyone is trying to figure out who you are and how long we have been together. On that account, we have been seen together with some frequencies. Someone will soon put that together. Your immigration status and paperwork is being double checked by the clan. It will look convincing. They have also established we rented a room at the hotel once a week for the last 6 months.”

Jesse snorted. “Only once a week? That must have been an intense night then.”

Hanzo blushed. Honest to god, pink in the cheeks. “I…had not considered that.”

“Just saying, if we’re suppose t’be engaged, wouldn’t we be all over each other?” Jesse surely would not be satisfied with one night together with his lover if he had one. It had been a long time since he been with anyone.

When he didn't get a snarky reply, he glanced over while taking a large bite. Hanzo had his hands folded on the table, eyes cast somewhere near the centerpiece. 

“Earth to Hanzo?” He leaned over, waving a bit of toast at him.

“Yes. You are correct. We would be more intimate.” He drummed those manicured fingers not the tabletop. “I believe, you should move in with me full time Jesse.”

His brows jumped, rubbing his jaw and putting down his fork. “Live with you? But what about your filming, the clan has work for me beside just watching you. The security on set is fine without me.”

“I believe they will give me to you fully, if I ask for it.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Well you’re the boss.” He hated when Hanzo talked about him like this. Like he really was a bit of property. But until he earned his freedom, he essentially was.

“Then I will make arrangements.”

“Just gotta grab my clothes and gear.” He could fit everything he owned in two duffle bags. There were times he missed having a home, having stuff to remind him that he existed.

“I will have them brought.”

“No stranger is gonna pack my underwear.”

“Then I will take you shopping. You need a new wardrobe anyway.”

“What’s wrong with how I dress?” Jesse huffed, looking down at his typical flannel button down tucked into black jeans. His double belts looped easily around his hips, peacekeeper strapped to his right thigh. His cowboy boots in his room. He was forbidden to wear them inside the compound. 

“If you are pretending to be my fiancé, then you need to look the part.” Hanzo gave him a sweeping, scrutinizing look, nose tilted up. 

“I like how I look.” His chin jutted defiantly. “It’s my western charm. Rugged and manly.”

“It is certainly a look,” Hanzo huffed but seemed to give up on that angle. “You will need formal wear though.”

Jesse grunted, cursing his luck. “Do I gotta go to those boring dinners and actor parties now?”

“Yes.” He set his tea down, eyes glancing to the courtyard. “I have also already received many requests for interviews.” Jesse groaned again, running his hands through his shaggy hair. “including several on tv. My manager is insisting i take them. That we take them.”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“No.”

“But we’re going to do it anyway?”

“Yes. It would raise more suspicions to avoid them.”

“Fine.” He put his elbow on the table, earning him a glare. “So… how did we meet?”

 

—-

 

The lights were too bright.

And the chairs were too small. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling like a giant. 

“Jesse, you must relax,” Hanzo delicately placed a hand over his own on the armrest. “Everything will be alright.”

“You’re used t’this,” Jesse squinted at the cameras and flurry of activity off stage. “I’ve spent m’life trying t’avoid the spotlight.”

“Well now that you’re with me, it’s time to embrace the limelight.” Hanzo squeezed his hand, knowing their mics were probably on even now. “Do you want to know my trick, to keeping my head in interviews?”

He was in love with Hanzo Shimada-Hanzo Hattori he corrected himself. His nerves could be explained away but he knew he needed to get his head into the game. He chewed his lip, shifting in his chair to lean in close to Hanzo. 

“Sure would, Darlin’,” he poured on the southern drawl. “Ya know how your voice calms me down.”

Hanzo leaned in, his breath ghosting over the shell of Jesse’s ear. He gulped, heat rising in his cheeks. A strand of that sinfully soft hair brushed his neck. _Sweet Jesus, give me strength,_ he pressed his eyes closed tight. Mint scented breath sending goosebumps down his body. 

“Focus on your breathing,” lips brushed the shell of his ear. He was trembling. “from your stomach.” Hanzo’s hand drifted to touch over his middle, lightly pressing. It took everything he had not to make a sound. “It’s just you… it’s just me, having a conversation.” The dark honeyed voice flooding through him, filling every space between nerve endings. “And Jesse, if you find yourself rambling, just squeeze my hand and I’ll take over.”

Jesse squeezed his hand tightly, not able to think straight with Hanzo murmuring in his ear like that. Hanzo might not be gay but he sure as fuck was. And he had a hard time keeping his dick under control at the moment.

He was saved from having to consider the meaning of that by the host of the show they were appearing on. Her bubbly personality translating to her frilly pink blouse of some kinda material that looked like it would tear like tissue paper. Jesse glanced over to Hanzo, not sure if this was expected. He seemed as calm and in control as always. 

Hanzo rose to this feet to bow and Jesse followed a second later. He had been drilled about this for hours. After the pleasantries were exchanged they all settled into their chairs. The audience filed in, mostly young women he noticed. Not surprising given Hanzo’s popularity with that demographic.

The ever popular New Dawn tv miniseries painted him as a passionate and romantic lover with a jealous streak. Something between a soap opera and a historical drama, it had been getting consistently good reviews since it’s air date last summer.

It couldn’t hurt that Hanzo’s character ran around in the sports edition of a kimono with his left tit out. “For accuracy” to the archer’s roots. Jesse thought it was more likely because the man was a beefcake. And the intricate identifying double dragon tattoo was covered in a synthetic skin spray that had to be removed by laser.

The same fake skin was covering his left arm. A prosthetic was too distinguishable and even though it had been made in the blackest of markets, some parts still had serial numbers. It was better to pretend that he was fully human.

He realized he had missed whatever question they had just been asked by the cute hostess. She was wearing a straw hat. There was a sunflower in it.

Hanzo squeezed his hand, “Jesse, just remember to breathe.”

“He is not, used to spotlight?” Ms. Kamoto giggled behind her hand. “Jesse-san, how do you like Japan?”

“It is… very different from where I came from,” he laughed slightly, earnest expression but slightly offs kilter still. “Lots of real old history and there’s a… a kinda magic. When I visit the temples with Hanners,” there was a fluttering in the audience and giggling. “Uh, I mean, with Hanzo. and it’s… well I like japan real well.”

“Hattori-sama,” Ms Kamoto turned back to Hanzo. “Jesse-san calls you ‘Hanners?’ What do you call him?”

“Ah… he has let the embarrassing nickname slip,” A rich chuckle betrayed none of Hanzo’s anxiety, if he felt any. “I am afraid, my name for him, is also quite embarrassing.”

“Tell, tell, you must share with us, Hattori-sama!”

Hanzo cast his gaze over, a dark spark glimmering. “I do not know. Should I tell them?”

Jesse resigned to his fate, already wincing. “Sure thing, Sug’.”

Hanzo smirked into the camera. “I refer to him as Cowboy, Kamoto-chan.”

“OooooOOOoooooh, cowboy-ka?” She clarified and Hanzo nodded to confirm. “Why is he cowboy?”

“Ms Kamoto-chan,” Jesse cut in, leaning forward with his hands between his knees. “He calls me that because,” a grin cut wide across his face. “I was an honest t’god, chaps wearing, lasso swinging cowboy on a ranch in the New Mexico desert fore I came here.”

That caused quite a stir, a good one he thought by the oohing and cooing from the audience. He relaxed some, earning an approving squeeze from Hanzo. The interview went smoother after that, Ms Kamoto giving them more softballs about their likes and dislikes and Hanzo handled the tougher ones.

Like why they had been hiding the relationship and how serious they were as a couple and if Jesse lived with him. Jesse concentrated on keeping his body language relaxed and open, face friendly if a little confused when they talked too fast or switched to Japanese. It was exhausting, being under scrutiny. He preferred the interrogation room personally compared to it.

The interview was finally coming to a close. Ms Kamoto bowing to them and the producers coming over to shake hands. Jesse was reminded again just how much bigger he was than the people. Head and shoulders and chest above Ms Kamoto and at least 9 inches on everyone but Hanzo.

Now that they were backstage, he was feeling on edge. It was too dark and easy to hide someone or something in the wings. Hanzo was chatting away lightly, keeping up his own persona of recluse but polite actor. Jesse could feel the weight of eyes on them, but then again, of course everyone was staring at them.

An assistant scurrying up to the little group. She handed a file to the producer with a bow before disappearing. He watched her closely, marking down her face. Some of the conversation Hanzo was having was in english but they switched back to Japanese frequently, some things just not translating.

He was bored, looking around the backstage. There wasn’t much for him to do back here. He wasn’t the one that was famous and he doubted someone was going to try to kill his boss at the moment.

So he just stood around, looking handsome with his arm casually around Hanzo’s shoulders. It was probably inappropriate but he was just the boytoy. He didn’t care if he was embarrassing Hanzo. His neck was definitely red.

They finally finished their conversation, breaking away to gather their coats. “You did very well.” Hanzo looped his arm through his. “I am impressed.”

“Shucks, I thought you believed in me?” he teased, nudging his shoulder into him. 

“Not everyone handles national tv as smoothly.” 

“Shit, that was national?”

“Of course,” Hanzo didn’t even look at him, striding easily out the door to the waiting car. The flash of cameras did not phase him. This was just his normal life after all. “There isn’t much I do that isn’t national news.”

“Well, aren’t you mister rich and famous,” he sneered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. He seemed to always be doing that these days.

“You are correct on both fronts.”

“Hans,” he drawled, sliding an arm around his hips and leaning in close as the paparazzi swarmed. “I’m well aware of who ya are and how fancy ya are.” he slowed them to a stop right in front of the car. “

“Good,” Hanzo’s serene expression faltered for a moment. “We should continue our journey. I am needed on set in an hour and a half.”

“It can wait a few moments, t’give them a good photo.” He jerked his chin to the side to the waiting reports. He pulled Hanzo in for an embrace, pressing him back into the car. He towered over the man, heavy arms bracketing his head. 

Wide eyes stared up at him, flush charging down his cheeks and neck. “Jesse,” his name was whispered like a prayer, sending a shockwave of emotions through him. The urge to kiss him for real almost overwhelming his reason. 

He eased away, missing the burning of Hanzo’s body immediately. “C’mon, darlin’,” he opened the car door for his boss. His head was spinning.

“Yes… it is for the best,” Hanzo voice was just the slightest bit unsteady. “We should head out.” His expression was once again calm as the cameras flashed and he took his place in the back the car. Only Jesse could see the tightness in his perfectly tailored black trousers.

_Did he enjoy that?_


	2. Chapter 2

The city sprawled out in shimmering waves to the coast where it met the dark swell of the ocean. The moon drew a cloak of clouds over her face and a gown of rain tight to her flesh. It washed the stink of exhaust and humanity away, softening the noise of a city bursting at the seams.

This high up, traffic below was a babbling brook. Lights flickering and dancing off the shifting mass of umbrellas offering shelter.

Jesse rubbed the binoculars on his shirt under the black leather jacket protecting him from the chill. The rain was making their simple mission a pain in his ass. “Wind keeps shifting.” He muttered, getting back on his belly on the edge of the skyscraper. The concrete hard and cold under his elbows. 

The reason they had ventured from the warmth and safety of the compound coming into view. The German was staggering, a woman under one arm, a bottle of champagne in the other, into the living room. The penthouse apartment offering him a sense of privacy.

They waited in the rain.

Statues on the roof, gargoyles watching in judgement as the german took his hooker against the glass. 

“Is he taunting us?” Jesse muttered around an unlit cigar, hair plastered to his face.

“I do not believe so.” Hanzo shifted next to him, sitting up from the .300 Win Mag rifle. The man blended into the skies. “We must wait until the shot is clear.”

“Should be just a minute or so.”

There was a heartbeat’s pause and then Hanzo huffed through his nose. “Should we judge his performance while it lasts?” Dark humor glinted in upturned eyes. The mouth hidden by a black wrap was surely smirking.

“I love it when you’re catty,” Jesse grinned, studying the rutting man with a critical eye. “Feet too far apart.”

“No sense of rhythm.” 

“Sloppy Thrusts.”

“His face.”

He almost choked on his own spit, coughing to clear his passage and laughter poured out. “Fuck, savage.”

Hanzo delicately sipped from his thermos of tea. “No stamina,” he tilted his head, sneering as he carefully lowered himself down to his rifle.

It was true. the German was leaving his companion, chugging from the champagne bottle. The poor woman was slumped against the glass, sliding down to sit with her back to them. A cloud of fog half obscuring her. She was low and out of their sightlines.

Jesse found their marker. A sticky arrow on the support beam for the windows. There was a small ribbon tied to it, gauging the wind at the target. A flag stirring between the buildings giving the middle ground. “two clicks to the left and one up,” Jesse murmured, all business as they waited for the drug trafficker to come back from the kitchen. They did not have a problem with drugs. The Shimada-gumi dabbled in all manner of vices. 

The issue was that the opium Mr. Rainart Bahr was dumping into the city was not sanctioned by the Clan and he had not paid tribute to come into their territory. He had been warned of his rudeness and given the opportunity to make peace.

He had chosen a night with a hooker instead.

“Here he comes, wind steady.” He pulled on the heavy duty ear protection, world going silent before their com-link stabilized.

“I have the shot.” Hanzo’s voice sharp in his ear, his own safety gear in place. 

The German shook a new bottle of champagne, popping the cork in an explosion of froth.

“Take the shot.”

 

 

The walk through the small city in quiet. Heads down to avoid suspicious, they pulled scarves over their faces to protect from the rain. It beat down on their heads, making reflective pools between squatty homes and buildings from a bygone era.

Neon fragments swallowed only to be reborn again. Distant bells muffled by the storm hinted at the old temples that were still held as sacred. They stooped under a line of clothing that had been forgotten on the line.

Hanzo’s rifle was packed into a case on his back. It was slick and shiny. 

They were both shivering. The thermos of tea passed back and forth for a mouthful of heat. The taste too bitter for his liking.

“Did we really have t’take the train?”

“Yes.”

He grumbled, pushing wet hair out of his face. Water dripped from his nose tip steadily. But he understood. The express line stretched between their targets location and close to their compound, just a few hours walk in normal conditions.

Now they slugged up ancient streets, climbing the tall hill to the house they both slept at now. It would be morning soon, the sky turning muddy in the east. Jesse wanted nothing more than to sleep until noon and if he was lucky, Hanzo would too.

 

 

“Get up, Jesse.”

“no,” he buried his face in his pillow. The futon warm and soft, blankets piled high. Sunlight streamed through the opened sliding door, storms of the night before having fled. It was golden on his bared shoulders and arms.

A sharp little foot dug into his side. “I require your presence.” 

“you just want to beat me up,” he muttered, turning on his side away from his boss.

“Sparing is an important part of your duties.”

“I'm workin’ twenty-four seven now?” he tugged the blankets up to his ear.

“Yes.”

“I want a raise.”

A long pause. Jesse closed his eyes, preparing to go back to sleep. 

“I will have Yamamoto-san make your disgusting fried chicken food for dinner.”

His eyes popped open. “Real fried chicken?”

“It is not proper food but… yes.”

“Mashed potatoes?”

“Fine.”

“Homestyle Gravy?”

“I am sure Yamamoto-san will be able to find a recipe.”

“Buttermilk Biscuits?”

“Jesse,” a sharp foot jabbed into his thigh. “My patience grows thin.”

He pouted, half rolling over to look up at his boss. Fucking beauty queen was looking perfect as always. Already equipped for a sparring match with tight athletic ninja wear. That’s what it had to be called because Hanzo Shimada would not be wearing leggings could he?

The sun shone behind him, sending gold dust scattering along his powerful shoulders and lithe hips. Jesse squinted and huffed, not convinced and not going to get out of his futon.

A thunderous look flashed over Hanzo’s face.

_I fucked up,_ he didn’t have time to defend himself, grabbing blindly as Hanzo stooped, grab his blanket and swept it off in one elegant move.

“Fuck man!” He growled, bare legs kicking as he got to his feet. Cold air washed over his body. Goosebumps prickling on his arms and legs. “What if id’ not been wearing underwear?” he gestured with both hands at his boxer briefs.

Hanzo’s left brow lifted, eyes falling down Jesse’s body. The man huffed, refusing to cower or shield himself. Even his morning wood because fuck this guy. It was just cruel.

“I suppose I may have misjudged the situation.” The smaller man had the decency to give the slightest shrug. “You should have gotten up.”

Jesse just glared at him. 

“I will have Yamamoto-san research what buttermilk biscuits are.” There was pink on his cheeks, chin lifted just a degree higher than normal. Those dark eyes flicking to him and away.

“Fine.” 

 

 

The dojo on the east side of the compound was full of light and fresh air. The sea smell wafting up and mixing with the early spring flowers. The sliding doors were wide open, inviting nature to become part of the practice.

Wood floors caressed the bottom of their feet, worn but maintained with religious care over the centuries. 

It hurt Jesse’s ass as they meditated before their match. Long legs were crossed loosely. He picked at the hole on his knee absently, letting his eyes wander. At least he was fully awake and showered and had a cup of coffee in his stomach.

Hanzo was sitting on his knees, serene with his eyes closed, hands resting open palmed. 

“Stop staring at me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Hmm,” one slanted eye opened, gave him a sweep and closed. “You are not ready to fight still.”

“I'm ready when you are.”

“I will beat you if you do not focus your mind.”

A sound of frustration swelled in his throat, barely held down. Energy sparked along his heavy shoulders and coiled in his gut. Restless as he waited for his boss to do whatever breathing exercises he was into today. It had been over a week since they had sparred, almost two weeks since they had started pretending to be a couple.

“I wish you to be calm,” Hanzo had moved closer somehow. “We have something important to discuss after our spar.”

Jesse looked to the heavens for patience. “About?”

“Us.”

“Then let’s get going.”

Hanzo’s gaze was heavy on him. “Very well. I will not go easy on you.”

“Fucking finally,” he growled, pushing to his bare feet.

Hanzo was on him in an instant, flying palm strike. Jesse twisted out of the way. Sinking onto the balls of his feet, defensive as Hanzo hunted him. Circling looking for weakness in his guard. Always so fucking calm.

The kick was predictable, Jesse blocking and countering with a hard right jab. Nothing but air. They joined again in a clash, mass and power against speed and skill.

His head cracked into the floor and he rolled with a grunt. Hanzo smirking just out of reach. “Just try that again, just fucking try it.”

Hanzo leapt, spinning through the move, building a terrifying inertia behind his heel. Jesse dove to the side, sliding out of the way. The man advanced again. Always pushing, pushing, goading him around the room.

A quick one to strike caught him in the chest but Jesse caught Hanzo’s wrist. Surprise flickered over the smaller man’s face before he was smashed into a broad chest. A narrow foot hooked behind his ankle.

He growled and threw his weight forward to counter it.

They went down in a mess.

Shock jolted up his arms and shoulders as he landed on one hand and an elbow, Hanzo trapped beneath him.

“Whattda say? If I can ever catch’ya you’re done.” He smirked, breathing heavily. The press of Hanzo’s back into his chest against his sending a thrill down his spine. Hanzo twisted hard, arms scrambling for a new hold that would let him flip Jesse.

He clamped down with all his strength and weight, crushing Hanzo down into the floor. Hot breath gusting over the pale shell of one ear. “Not gonna get away from me,” firm lips brushing against the sensitive space behind his earlobe. 

Hanzo had gone quiet, their normal exchange of taunts and threats exchanged for jabbing elbows and scrambling knees. Jesse thrust down, hips grinding into a muscled ass as he knocked Hanzo’s back down. “Do you tap out?” he traced the flushed column of the smaller man’s neck with his nose tip. Large hands pinning both wrists, unable to spare one for tormenting the DragonTM. 

Hanzo bucked, throwing his head back roughly and crashed into Jesse’s cheek and temple. He grunted, losing his hold for just a split second and Hanzo had jammed an elbow under his guard. Ribs groaned but held as he was knocked flat on his back.

He shoved up, knocking Hanzo back by the shoulders. His elbows were hooked out and arms forced down, knees stabbed into his biceps, pinning them down. A hard ass smacking the air out of his stomach as Hanzo seated himself with a smirk.

“Do you surrender?” 

It was hard to breathe, muscled thighs gripping his sides. He bucked his hips up, tossing Hanzo forward but not off.a gasping breathe sucked in before he was caught in a vice, he had to get back on top before he blacked out. 

All his power coiled in his belly, surging in time with his heartbeat and he thrust hard. Hanzo was thrown into the mat as they tumbled, scrambling for dominance again.

Hanzo was faster, grabbing his hips and trying to throw him. Jesse was stronger, turning the momentum and shoving Hanzo back down. Face to face, heaving chests and hot breathes. Straining arms and questing legs. Hanzo had his thighs around Jesse again, trying to smash his hips into powder.

“No you fucking don’t,” Jesse snarled, hand tightening on Hanzo’s beautiful throat.

Something twitched beneath him, distracting him as fingers clawing at his arms and face. Growing desperate, panicked.

_What the fuck?_

Jesse let go, pulling his weight off Hanzo. On Hands and Knees, panting heavily with eyes wide at the beautiful man below him. Hanzo’s legs hooked around him, lifted off the ground.

Hanzo rolled out from under him, brushing off his front. The sliver of his neck above his collar was fiery red. Strands of damp hair had fallen out of his high ponytail.

“You won.”

“Really?” Jesse snorted, rising slowly and putting his hands on his hips. Twinges of pain shot through his ribs and head. He felt relief that his teeth were all intact after that punch. “Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“Ya fealin’ alright?”

“yes.”

Moving slowly, he went to grab towels, tossing one over to Hanzo. 

 

 

“Was the chicken to your liking?”

The food spread over the table had been like a bit of home. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes slathered in butter with that savory white pepper gravy. It sat in his stomach, heavy and soothing. There were crumbs in his beard from buttermilk biscuits and a beer in his hand. This was the closest he’d gotten to freedom in over a year.

“Gosh Darn amazing,” he stretched back, resting his weight on his hands. “Swear I was back in the states romancing my way across the South.”

“Hmm,” Hanzo picked at his own plate. “I prefer fried okra if i am going to indulge in such things.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for that,” Jesse took a swig of his beer, looking out the circular window facing west. The sun was sinking low, ruddy against the clouds.

“I have… many unique tastes.”

“I'm sure you do, sug.” A thick cigar appeared between his fingers, raising it to ask for permission. 

“Go to the window.”

“Come with me.”

“Very well.”

The air was cooler here and held the smoke beautifully. Thin wisps curling between them, quiet cradled in it. Soft bird song filtered in. The sear of burning tobacco dragged deep into his chest and captured.

“We will be leaving this place tomorrow.”

“Shucks,” Jesse leaned his shoulder into the frame of the window. “I really loved this place.”

HIs stance was mirrored, a knee brushing against his. “We will return in time. I am needed at the secondary location for three days. You will accompany me for added security.”

“And because I'm your fiancé.” Jesse waggled his brows, “Getting in some intimate time with my lover.”

The red of sunset disguised any blush on Hanzo’s face. Black hair down after his shower, moving softly in the breeze.

“It is a remote location and accommodations are limited. I have reserved a room at the only hotel.” A bird trilled sweetly, seeking a mate. “There is only one bed.”

Smoke gusted out of his nose. “I guess that means I'm on the floor.”

“That seems wise.”

“You’re paying for my poor aching back.” 

“Very well.” Slender fingers plucked the cigar from between his lips, twirling it to take a deep drag. “Many of the cast and crew will also be at this hotel. It is a traditional one,” smoke billowed from full lips. “such as this, the doors do not have locks and the walls are thin. It will be best to appear as a couple the entire time we are there.”

“Hmm,” Jesse sipped from his beer, watching the mountains, “guess i’ll pack m’bag… still think this is a bad idea. Meeting your costars and everythin’, people will be askin’ questions.” he extended his hand for his cigar but Hanzo did not oblige. 

“They are already asking questions,” the end of the cigar glowed red in the dim light, “this is a good way to cement our relationship in their minds.”

The words turned over in Jesse’s mind, testing the weight. “How far can I go?” 

Dark eyes glittered at him. “As far as is necessary.”

 

_——_

 

_“Damn,”_ Jesse whistled, setting their suitcases down on the tatami mat covered floor. The room was more than generous, high ceilings and open spaces. The futon was laid out with care on one side, promising a peaceful sleep. Blankets carefully folded at the foot. The shoji screens to the outside deck were open, night seeping in at the edges.

“Do not act so surprised,” Hanzo said dryly from behind him. “I would have taken you to much nicer places.”

“But ya haven’t,” he pointed out, strolling over to the open door and stepping onto the deck. A lush garden stretched out, bursting with green and speckled with stepping stones. The babble of running water hinted at a stream or creek. “This onna those places with the hot springs?”

“I believe so,” Hanzo had joined him on the deck, “Come back inside. My costars will be arriving shortly.”

“You never let me have any fun,” he pouted but obeyed, sliding the door closed behind him. Not that they offered much in the way of privacy, but at least they couldn’t be seen from the long winding road that brought travels up the hill to the hotel. 

Hanzo just rolled his eyes, sinking onto the modern couch and pulling out his cellphone. “Your version of fun is normally committing a felony.”

“Says the ninja assassin.”

“This is true,” Hanzo was tapping away, not even looking at him. “I however, am subtle. You are as understated as a bull.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.” 

“This is serious, McCree.”

“C’mon sugar, don’t be so formal,” he eased down on the couch next to him, closer than was necessary. “Besides,’ He leaned in, resting his shoulder against Hanzo’s, “Don't cha think we should be working t’seem like a real couple?”

Hanzo reached over without looking up and smacked his cheek. “Then be a dear and go get me a coffee. I need to read over the script.”

“Aren't afraid i’ll get into trouble?”

“Can you handle this or not McCree?”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, rising to his slipper clad feet and shuffling across the room. He could take his time to do a small interior sweep while he was at it. The hall was empty, many rooms with doors open. He would never get used to the sliding paper doors with no locks. How could people sleep completely vulnerable? He could punch through the shoji screen and be half way through murdering his victim before they had time to react.

_No wonder he wanted me here,_ he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he wandered to the dinning area. A few staffers bowed hello, scurrying about to get the hotel ready for the influx of stars. They had gotten here early for a reason after all.

He found the cafe area, catered food spread out and waiting for the arrival of the Red Tide Rising crew. There was coffee thankfully and some finger foods and prepackaged snacks. He pocketed a fair share for later and filled two cups with black coffee. Adding cream and sugar to his and leaving Hanzo’s back. He put sugar packets into his pockets and started to meander around the hotel.

It was a one story sprawling building hidden behind high red walls that had stood for centuries. The layout a basic rectangle with some newer additions on the back and east side. The signage was in Kanji but thankfully, there was also romanized text below it. That was easy to translate between his limited knowledge and his phone. 

He slipped into the conference room, looking over the low table and cushioned seats. The large projector screen at the head feeling out of place. He stooped to plant a bug under the lip of the table in the middle before sliding out again. he moved on, stopping to plant bugs in the second conference room, the gym, the two separate breakfast nooks but stopped at the onsen. He didn't feel right putting listening devices in either side. He did pull out his cellphone and run a sweeper again, looking for competing bugs. None popped up but he wasn’t sure they were safe. There were always people trying to get a scoop on his boss and now there would be even more. The scandal showed no sign of slowing down. 

The wall around the hotel did offer some peace of mind. At least it would be hard to get an angle into the courtyards for a shot, of both gun and camera. The gardens would need to be gone over alter, once there was more cover.

Eventually, he returned to the room, not caring that Hanzo’s coffee was probably no more than lukewarm. The sliding door was open, voices bubbling out excitedly. He paused, listening to the rapid Japanese. It was cut through by the low rumble of Hanzo’s laughter. Fake laughter but not from distress.

He walked into view, entering the room in a low easy stride. “Got your coffee, sugar,” he grinned, watching Hanzo jump.

The young woman sitting across from him was beaming, long brown hair falling around her shoulders. “Jesse-san!” she bounced to her feet and came over quickly. “Hanzo was telling me about you,” she popped a big bubble of pink gum, one hip jutting out. “Is it true you have been dating for over a year?”

“Sure is, Darlin’,” Hanzo was looking at him with wide eyes, “and who might you be, little lady?”

“Hana Song,” she held out her hand, hoodie sleeve riding up. “I play his daughter in the drama.”

“Please t’meet you,” he took it, giving a firm shake. “Hope Hanners here has been treatin’ ya well.”

She squealed, dancing from foot to foot. “you really do call him that, OMG, can I call you that Hattori-kun?”

“Please do not,” he laughed again, eyes dancing with amusement. “It seems my private life is no longer private.”

“Bout time, loser,” she chuckled, hands on narrow hips. “you were sitting on a juicy secret! No need to be all reclusive now.”

A laugh almost choked him, fighting down the impulse to howl with glee. “I’ll tell you all his secrets, Miss Song,” he plopped down next to Hanzo, arm slung around his shoulders. The man stiffened for just a moment before leaning in. Musky oak filled his nose, Hanzo’s personal scent.

“Oh please do not, Jesse,” a hand appeared on his knee, “or i will have to tell her some of yours in return.” The dig of nails made him wince.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, hush-hush and all that,” he grinned through the pain. 

Hana pouted, popping her gum. “I see how it is, he’d got you wrapped around his little finger.”

“Sure does,”Jesse agreed, letting his hand rest on Hanzo’s. He was going to have bruises in the morning. 

“Mm, well is your boyfriend more fun than you are, Hattori?” She had her cellphone out, tapping rapidly. “the crew wants to go out and get drinks.”

“Sounds fun,” he could really use a drink right now. 

“Soooo, can I borrow your boyfriend Hattori-san?” 

 

—

 

The bar bustled around them, locals enjoying their Friday night and the crew packing it to the brim. Loud music and loud voices jumbling together in away that reminded him of home. Everywhere in the world, bars tended to be the same. A crush of life and people, some drowning sorrows and others celebrating another week completed.

The cast had come out, most of them at least, and were drinking and blowing off steam. This was one of the last shoots for the movie, getting close to getting to go to their different homes and countries and start new projects. Hana was dancing on the floor with several of the other young women and a few men, members of the crew joining and mingling together. 

“Tells us how you met!” Angela insisted for the third time, the crew’s private doctor already blasted. This time several others joined in.

Hanzo was trying to hide his pout behind a cup of sake, flushed to his hears. His hair was half out of the standard pony. “No, no leave me some secrets,” he slurred, waving them off. The constant bombard of questions had worn him down, speaking refuge in his cups. 

Jesse couldn’t blame him. The private man’s cultivated reserved persona in tatters around him. You couldn’t be in love with Jesse McCree and expect to keep much of your dignity. Jesse laughed, arm slung around Hanzo’s shoulders. He was not even tipsy, nursing his whiskey. 

“Well, he swore me t’secrecy,” there was a collective aww but he winked, “but there is one way you could keep m’mouth shut, Hanners.” 

The man pouted, head lulling against Jesse’s shoulder. His cheeks pink, mouth glimmering with sake. “I could… i could punch you,” a fist lightly booped his mouth.

“And ruin my perfect smile?” he grinned, tapping his bottom lip. “The one that got you all weak kneed when i-“

“Shutup,” he grumbled, trying to stop him with his palm. It was sloppy, not blocking him as much as tickling. “Don’t… don’t tell them.”

Jesse’s heart lurched, lips pressed into his boss’s palm with a kiss. The terrifying man looking up at him with pleading eyes, hands weakly pawing at his chest. Everyone was laughing, at them, with them he wasn’t sure. _“Why do you have to be so cute,”_ he whispered, not sure if Hanzo could even hear him. 

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against the killer’s hot and sweaty one. The burn of sake drenched breath mingling with his. “I want to go…back to the room now,” he huffed, head sliding to rest on his shoulder.

“Well, you heard the gentleman,” Jesse couldn’t say no, chest aching dully as he eased them out of the booth. Hanzo was limp against him, both arms wrapped around his left. “I'm gonna get him t’bed.”

There was a chorus of cheers and eye rolling in equal measure. There was a good chance Hanzo would kill him in the morning. 

“Let’s go, hot stuff,” Jesse hefted him closer, waving goodbyes to the giggling women they’d been drinking with. It wasn’t too long a walk from the bar up the winding road to the hotel, fresh air clearing the haze in his mind.

It seemed to have a reviving affect on Hanzo as well. The man not leaning as heavily on him. His face still tucked into his shoulder. “You’re…fired,” he grumbled, but didn’t let go.

“Yeah, Yeah, i’ve heard that before, never sticks till the morning tho,” he huffed, trying not to blush as Hanzo’s arms slid to loop around his waist. The road was dark and heavily wooded on both sides. “you wanna get to the hotel or not?” The cooing of birds mingled with rough breathing, Hanzo’s fast and shallow.

Hands tightened into fists, pulling him off the path till they collided with a broad tree. “Hanzo, what the fuck?” he grunted, wind knocked out of him. 

“Shhh….” a finger pressed to his lips, heavy lidded eyes burning in the moonlight. 

He heard it then, the soft whisperings and giggles as the female costars and crew came up the road behind them. They were just around the bend. “Ya wantin’ t’give them something to gossip about?” he raised a brow. Heat pooling in his stomach, those dark eyes begging him to do something incredibly stupid. 

“Mmm…?” the murmured question almost drowned out by his own heartbeat. His hand on the tree trunk, Hanzo pinned between. His yukata pushed down one shoulder, the flutter of his pulse showing at the joining of neck and shoulder. “Jesse…” slender fingers ran down his chest, splaying over chiseled abs. 

“Hanzo, you’re an idiot.”

“This…. this is true,” a shaky breath, lips trembling as they struggled with the words.

The women were turning the corner, a loud gasp revealing they had been seen.

The moonlight was dappled on Hanzo’s face, silver on the dark hair and cooling the pink on his cheeks. Drunk out of his mind but still able to pretend, an actor through and through. Bitterness stung Jesse’s heart, this man could play with everyone, play with him and not expected anyone to notice or care.

_Fucking bastard,_ his heart thundered, shoving Hanzo hard into the tree. He wanted to give his costars something to gossip about, Jesse would obey like the good little dog he was. He pinned Hanzo against the tree, hips crushing into the smaller man’s stomach. 

He ached for Hanzo’s mouth, for sweet softness and the eager parting of lips. He couldn’t have that, there would be nothing in a kiss, nothing at all to hold onto. The brush of Hanzo’s hair on his cheek was silk on burning skin, nose filling with the scent of hot flesh. He pressed his lips to that thundering pulse, licking over sweaty skin. 

Hanzo moaned under him, fingers scrambling over his back. Nails dug in, sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. He growled in need, mouth opening to taste again and again, bitting down hard enough to leave red welts. The buck of hips against his made him snarl, _this stupid bitch,_ he yanked Hanzo’s head to the side, exposing more flesh to assault. He would make Hanzo remember what happened tonight, even if he tried to pretend it didn’t.

“Jesse, Jesse,” the name panted out on hot gusts, hands fumbling at his chest as Jesse kissed and bit down the hard plane of his companion’s chest. That stupid gorgeous muscular chest with a ridiculous tan line from running around with his left tit out all the time.

The sound of his name on those lips made it hard to hold back, hard to keep from burying himself inside Hanzo and claiming him for his own. Make him beg and scream and buck that perfect ass back into him again and again till they came undone together in a mess.

_He’s straight,_ the thought was a cold bucket of water on him and he pulled back.

Hanzo stumbled, suddenly having to hold his own weight. “Fuck,” he held onto the tree for support. Blown wide pupils hidden in the shadows, chest heaving with what could only be disgust. “That was…”

“Get a room you two!” 

They both jumped, eyes wide like deer in high beams.

“Be glad we’re not papazzariiiii~” Angela giggled, fanning herself with one hand. 

“I'm glad we’re not next door to you two, gross old men.” Hana joined in, the women enjoying their embarrassment far too much.

 

—

 

The moon was fat in the sky and dangling just above the wall outside the courtyard. The smoke rising from his cigar shimmered in the cold air, mixing with the smoke from the little piggy statue next to him. It kept away the bugs he’d been told. He didn’t get why it was shaped like a pig though.

He’d been more of a donkey. 

Hanzo hadn’t spoken to him since the entered the room. The fire stirred up in Jesse’s belly had turned to cold ashes. The yakuza boss was already in the futon, for all appearances fast asleep. Hours passed but he couldn’t bring himself to enter the room and try to sleep on the couch.

_i shouldn’t have done that,_ he sighed, flicking off the ash from his cigar and dragging the fire in deep. _fucking idiot, fucking stupid bitch,_ he ground the heel of his palm into his eyes. He had let his temper get the best of him. _let my cock get the best of me,_ he corrected, just the memory of Hanzo trapped against him sent a jolt straight to his dick. He could almost believed Hanzo had actually enjoyed it, almost. 

The death glare he’d gotten once the shoji screen had closed assured him otherwise. When this was over, when they had their “breakup” and he was released from service, Hanzo would be back to dating the prettiest models and actresses. And he would go back to wandering, hiring out his skills and guns to make a meager living.

The door behind him slid open almost silently. Soft taps signaling Hanzo’s arrival. 

“You should get some sleep.”

The man’s voice was clear now, not showing the drink he’s downed earlier.

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Seriously?” Jesse rolled his eyes, chewing on the butt of the cigar. 

“Hmm,” it was plucked from his mouth, “you will catch your death out here in the cold.”

“Good,” he tried to grab the cigar but it was held out of his reach. 

“These will kill you too,” he took a long drag before putting it out on a stepping stone. It disappeared into his sleeping robe next. “It will look bad if anyone sees you out here. Come inside.”

“Is that an order?” he grumbled, missing the sweet burn of nicotine in his system already.

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

He followed his boss inside, staring at the back of his head. He was shivering slightly, despite his robe. The cold had seeped in around them from the open door. The ache of exhaustion heavy on his shoulders and back. “Any chance of getting a blanket?” Jesse stopped at the side of the futon, looking at it with undisguised longing.

“Idiot.”

“What? Why you gotta be so mean?” 

Hanzo climbed into the bed, pushing himself to the far edge. “Then do what you want, fool.”

“Oh.”

He stared at the empty space, a broad back inviting his gaze to wander. _Its all for the ruse,_ he wasn’t going to pass up the chance for a bed though. It was firm but not hard, accepting his aching muscles and tired limbs. There was enough room for them, though just barely and he found his shoulder brushing Hanzo’s back. 

The man eased away, not turning around.

_Just for warmth,_ he sighed, thumping his head into the pillow and pressing his eyes shut. Sleep came easier than he would have guessed, everything catching up to him at once. He wanted to go home… where that was, he couldn’t say.

It took Hanzo far longer to drift off with the heat of a stupid, handsome cowboy in bed next to him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The rain poured down Hanzo’s bare chest, washing away a stream of blood. It bubbled up from between his breasts, from the depths of his heart. Dark eyes grew dull and heavy lidded. a rattling breath shook the wet hair clinging to his face as he went to his knees. Palms up as if in meditation, gun discarded in the grass next to him. 

the killer kicked it away and raised the barrel of his gun to Hanzo’s forehead. The kiss of chilled metal making his eyes flicker for a moment, bloodied mouth trying to form words. What they could be, no one would ever know. The life left his eyes as he fell backwards, staring at a dark sky that would not quit crying.

“Cut! We got it!” 

The sharp voice of the director cut over the still scene and people came unfrozen. Hanzo got to his feet, looking as grumpy as a drowned cat. The killer and counter stay, Jack Morrison, helped him up with a shrug. The man towered over everyone on set but Jesse McCree.

He lounged off camera in a camping chair with a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of catered in food in the other. This was the life, just relaxing and watching his boss have a terrible day. It had taken half a dozen takes to get this one right and the smaller man had been soaked to the skin for hours. The chilly breeze cutting straight across that gorgeous chest and bringing the unnatural flush to his cheeks.

The serape wrapped around his shoulders kept him nice and warm. The artificial rain drumming over the death scene far away from him. Even with the chilly, overcast day, he was having a good time. 

“Give me your blanket,” Hanzo huffed, teeth chattering as he walked over. They were done filming for the day and had the rest of the afternoon off to enjoy the wooded mountain area.

“Hmm, no.” Jesse cuddled deeper into it, tucking his nose under the edge with a contented sigh. 

“Give it to me.”

“Nope.”

“Fine.” Hanzo stamped his little foot, hands balling into fists. The gaze of amused coworkers heavy on them. Jesse raised an eyebrow, shit eating grin bright. “You are… you are so frustrating.” He grumbled before stepping between Jesse’s spread knees.

Blood surged into Jesse’s cheeks and down his body in a flood. “Hanzo?” he gulped, nerve endings dancing. The night before in the front of his mind.

“if you won’t give it to me, share then,” Hanzo’s face gave nothing away. Arms crossed over a glistening chest, hair wild around his face and neck. 

“Fine,” Jesse reached up, fast as a rattlesnake and grabbed Hanzo’s wrist. He yanked the man into his lap, capturing him in iron arms. The serape ended up wrapped around his boss, covering him in the smell of smoke and Jesse’s own musky scent.

Hanzo struggled against the hold, throwing an elbow into his ribs. Jesse pressed his forehead to the man’s shoulder from behind. “Everyone is watching,” warm lips brushing the icy shell of Hanzo’s ear. the shivers coiling through his body evident even through the fashionable blanket of a serape.

“You are a fool,” the muttered words were followed by a slight relaxing of muscles, “and you’ll pay for this later.”

“Hmm, put it on my tab,” He leaned back, dragging his huffy armful with him. The drip of wet hair onto his sternum made him question his decision but at the same time. Hanzo’s ass was grinding into his lap with every little shift, a weary head rested on the heat of his breast. The angle gave him a lovely view of that regal nose and stern brow. Cheekbones dusted with blush that might have been from the cold.

“Gotta get you warmed up before the crew heads back to the town,” the wet strands clung to his fingers, gently pushing them away. Hanzo just pressed his face into the warm fabric, legs curling up to his chest. 

Jesse drew him closer still, sliding down in the chair to offer his long solid bulk to his boss. Fighting to ignore the way his heart twinged at the contented sound that escaped nearly frozen lips, his gaze found Hana’s from across the work area. 

Her camera was pointed straight at them, popping her bubble as the flash went off. She made a peace sign at him before bouncing off to the changing trailer. He wondered absently if he could get a copy, for when he was free to leave Japan and go back to his life. There were some things he would miss.

“Hanzo,” he gently rubbed a muscled back with a hand, “you gotta get changed, you’ll catch your death otherwise.”

“I refuse.”

“Do ya now?”

“It will be too cold on the walk.”

“uh,” he shook his head, eyes to the heavens. This dramatic asshole was going to be the death of him. “Here, take m’serape and go get changed. The van back to the town should be leaving soon enough.”

An ache filled his stomach as he eased Hanzo out of his lap and back onto his feet. The man swayed for a moment before finding his balance. Misery clear on his face, shaking like a leaf in the wind. 

Jesse couldn’t really blame him, pulling his red and gold serape off and putting it around the yakuza boss’s shoulders. He tucked it up around him, just another excuse to touch him. “I’ll be waiting for you, hurry up and don't make me worry, Hanners.”

 

———-

 

The ride back to the town and the comfort of their room dragged out. The van was cramped for the six of them and the weather turning darker. Rain fell around them, flooding the forest road and the caravan of trucks and vans went carefully around the winding turns. Mud splattered the windows as they hit a puddle.

Hanzo’s head rested against the dirty pane, legs tucked against his chest under the thick wool serape. He appeared to be asleep but Jesse could feel the twitch of his fingers against his left thigh. Hana dozing on his right, giant headphones doubtlessly blocking out the loud chatter and rumble of the engine.

“You doin’ alright?” Jesse leaned in close, forehead touching the damp hair at Hanzo’s temple. It felt hot.

“I am fine.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yes,” Hanzo turned his body away, looking out the window as the afternoon grew dark from the storm.

 

——

 

The shuffling click of chips being stacked was almost lost under smokey eddies and low simmering music. Voices jumbled together in a mix of languages and dialects. Women in flashy costumes wandered between the tables of gambling men, some more dressed than others. The bunny girl working Jesse’s table put a hand on his shoulder.

“Can I get you another drink?” she crooned in his ear, the stink of cheap perfume bitter in his throat. 

He tipped back his stetson and flashed her a broad smile. “Sure thing, honey,” he plucked a twenty dollar chip from his pile and pressed it into her waiting palm. “double whiskey on the rocks.”

She giggled, making her ample bosom bounce and deftly pocketed the chip before swaying off. Her apple bottom peaking out from either side of the ridiculous leotard thing she was wearing. There were bruises on it from pinching fingers.

“You in or out?” 

Sharp eyes cut across his face. The gangsters he was playing with tonight not in the mood for his banter. He couldn’t really blame them, he wasn’t much in a playing mood. His thoughts taken up by the shivering man he’d left in the hotel. 

He looked over his cards again, weighing the odds of coming out on top. It helped that it wasn’t his own money he was betting tonight, the chips bought with the stack of bills Hanzo had given him from the clan. They wanted information about this seedy little gambling parlor that had cropped up and if the party favors in the back room really were of the lethal variety. 

Winning his way to the table behind red double doors was the best way to find out. He raised by $500 worth of yen. The cards in his hand not worth the risk but nothing on his face would have given him away. 

A sweating glass tumbler of whisky appeared at his side, a delicate hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, cowboy,” she giggled, patting at him before disappearing. Flickers of glee passed over the man across the table’s face. 

_so that’s how they’re always winning,_ he tucked the knowledge away for later. He lost that round and the next few while his attention shifted to the waitresses and entertainers. They were the real power behind this shop and packets of tightly folded red paper passed between them. 

He kept his cards against the table now, taking his time to make his wagers and drive the stakes higher and higher. Big players made it in this world.

It was past two in the morning before he got the invite to the back room. The smoke was thicker here and the music louder, the men at the table older and grizzled. He stopped to bow, sensing from the tattoos peaking out from under their sleeves and collars indicating they were yakuza but not part of the Shimada-gumi.

He took note of their faces and the marks that were visible while playing his hand, not to win now. Just enough skill to keep them interested in the game. He needed an excuse to come back later, once he knew what his boss wanted to do about the situation.

 

—

 

The room was dark. A chill seeped into every corner and the small heater couldn’t keep it at bay. A small mountain of blankets concealed the powerful Yakuza boss’s form, a delicate foot poking out the only indication that he was actually there.

Jesse sighed, bone tired. Eyes burning from being around so much smoke and throat raw. His head spun as he kicked off his boots and struggled out of his jeans. He kept fumbling with his double belts, cursing his thick fingers.

They hit the floor louder than he wanted but he was too tired to care. he just wanted the softness of a bed and the comfort of sleep and someone warm to curl himself around. _I need to get laid,_ he grumbled to himself as he got into the low futon. It was probably okay anyway. 

The blankets were heavy, like a hug as he wriggled in. Too big for the space Hanzo had left him.

“Move,” he pushed at the man’s shoulders, hands finding bare skin. It was hot under the pads of his fingers. It was firm with muscle and invitingly smooth. He closed his eyes, finding someplace steady inside him. He couldn’t be having these thoughts, not right now, not about his boss. 

They came anyway, a slurred stream of flashes of skin and heady caresses. His drunken dick trying to wake as he shoved Hanzo onto his side of the bed. The man was pliant, limp in his arms. D _umb ninja,_ he grunted, finally managing to get all the way into the bed. It was wonderfully warm, fighting the chill in his bones. 

Small tremors shook the futon, coming from the smaller man as he shivered in his sleep. The great and powerful Hanzo Shimada reduced to shivering like a leaf. It made Jesse smile, soaking up the rare moment of vulnerability before giving in. He just couldn’t resist, scooting to over and wrapping an arm around the smaller man. He fit just perfectly in the loop of his arm, tucked beneath his chin. A firm ass settling nicely in his lap.

Heat pooled in his belly but quickly dispersed. The warmth from Hanzo’s form making up for it, soaking into him. Oak and moss a familiar scent, comforting in the darkness. The steady rise and fall of his chest matching up with Jesse’s pace and the shivering began to ease. It was just them, bare legs tangling.

Nuzzling in, he found the perfect spot on the top of Hanzo’s head to breathe him in. Pulling the heated aura deeper and deeper, relaxing against his bare back. His arms tightening around the smaller man, keeping him close and protected in the curve of his body.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when wiggling woke him. Hanzo shifting against his grip but not pulling away, pressing deeper. His ass brushed against Jesse’s morning hard-on but he somehow managed to stop from rutting into it, pretending to still be asleep. 

A velvety smooth rumble of Japanese and Hanzo was nestling down again with no intention to move. The press of his back returning, the small of his back burning against the sliver of skin where Jesse’s shirt had ridden up. 

He tilted his head down, nose brushing the back of Hanzo’s neck. It was hot to the touch, feverish even. “You’re just set on making me worry, aren’t ya?” he murmured, sigh rustling his hair. 

There was faint light coming from the shoji screens that lead to the courtyard. It must have been early morning. He didn’t want to get out of bed, eyes heavy and scratchy. Hanzo would feel worse though when he did wake up.

Cold floors made him shiver, quickly shuffling to his provided slippers and getting a bathrobe wrapped around him. The ache of his head accompanied by a wave of nausea. _not as young as i used to be,_ he sighed, rubbing a hand over his crusty eyes. He still smelled like an ashtray. Hanzo would yell at him for that later.

The halls were empty, wood floors smooth and quiet under his steps. The shoji screens shut though a few rooms had lights on. He moved with all his stealth past those, especially Hana’s room. The last thing he wanted was to have a million questions to answer. The girl was too nosey for her own good, sweetheart though.

The faint glow from Angela’s room eased his worries, knocking lightly on the door frame. “Angie?” he called softly, rocking back on his heels as he waited. There was shuffling and a mutter in german before the door slide open just a crack.

Angela’s hair was in her face, hastily tied robe showing the delicate lines of her collarbones. “Vhat do you want?” she huffed up at him, cheeks flushed.

McCree looked her over, eyes flicking passed her to the room but she pushed him into the hall. And shut the door with a firm click. a smirk coiled across his face, wondering just who she had in there with her. “Hmm, sorry to get you out of a warm bed,” she rolled her eyes at him, “but… i think Hanzo’s coming down with something. Do ya have something I can give him?”

“Vhat are his symptoms?” Her expression began to soften, even patting his arm. “I know how hard it is when someone you love is sick, I will take care of him.”

“So far, looks like a fever,” he tucked his hands into his pockets, “can’t seem t’get him warmed up.”

“Hm, hopefully just a cold. I will get him something to help with the fever and keep an eye on him.” She slipped inside, careful not too open the door wide enough for him to see inside. The low murmur of a second female voice made his ears burn and he looked away.

She appeared not much later with a small first aid kit. It had pain meds, patches and an instant ice pack. “just make sure he gets plenty of fluids and takes it easy until his shoot tonight.”

“Thanks Angela,” he took the box and headed to the kitchen. The staff were already up and moving, the breakfast spread would soon be out. He opted for a thermos of tea and a little sweet talking got him a jar of honey and a bowl of oatmeal soaked in butter and brown sugar. It would go down easy and give the grump some energy for healing.

He maneuvered the tray to the crook of his elbow to open the screen, freezing with one foot inside. Hanzo was standing at the door to the bathroom, naked except for a small towel wrapped around his hips. Heat seared through him, flooding his body with uncomfortable energyas Hanzo stared back at him.

It took him a few moments to find his voice, clearing his throat. “Mornin’, brought you some meds and breakfast.”

“Thank you,” the yakuza boss started towards him, swaying on his feet.

“Woah there,” he rushed forward, setting the tray down on the floor next to the bed and going to wrap an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. “Steady now, Darlin.”

“I am fine,” Hanzo slurred, holding onto him tightly. “Really.”

“You’re burnin’ up.”

“Merely a … a head cold.”

“You’re barely standing.”

“I am only tired.” He started to slip and Jesse swept him off his feet. the press of a naked chest against him going straight to his groin, begging to believe the situation was different. Nothing was better than kissing shower warmed skin, soft and fragrant. The delicate curve of Hanzo’s neck begging to be bitten and sucked.

“Put me down.”

“No. You’ve got a fever.” he sighed, sinking onto the futon with Hanzo’s limp body in his lap. “you gotta eat something and take the meds. Angela said they would fix you up right.”

“Jesse,” his name a sonnet on Hanzo’s tongue. “Do you hate working for me?”

He blinked, caught off guard with a cup of honey sweetened tea half way to the assassin’s lips. “Well… that’s an unexpected question,” he cupped Hanzo’s damp head, helping him take a deep drink.

“Answer it.”

“Is that an order?” he chuckled, running a hand through his own dirty hair.

“Yes.”

He considered for a long time, just the quiet sounds of morning birdsong and shuffling around them. Hanzo had taken the meds without complaint and worked on the oatmeal though he disliked how slimy it was. The fiber would help with the nanobots now running through his system.

“I don’t hate it,” he scratched his beard, not looking down at his boss. “It’s… not what I was expectin’ when I came to Japan. I was just looking for someone t’make me a new arm in exchange for a few dozen thousands or a couple of escort missions.”

“But you met me.”

“And ya tried to kill me,” Jesse shook his head, smiling fondly at the memory.

“In… in my defense, I was drunk.”

“As a skunk, slurring your words and sending two floppy blue noodles after me.” A flicker of blue light, faint under synthetic skin marked the stirring of the two spirits. “Couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“They liked you,” Hanzo chuckled, resting his head back against Jesse’s chest. “I knew I had to have you then.”

“Mmhmm,” he looked up at the ceiling as a rush of emotions washed over him. “I guess as far as bosses go, you’ve been a good one. Haven’t ended up dead or in jail yet at least.”

“You have served me well,” a cool hand found his cheek, scratching through his beard, “given me…much more than I could ask for.”

“I am pretending t’be your lover.”

“Yes, pretending.” he pulled away slightly, looking away from him.

Jesse’s heart lurched, stuttering into high gear. It couldn’t be… there was no way… “You’re the professional actor, not me,” he tried to chuckle, the sound dry in his throat.

“I thank you, for your services.”

“Not like I had much of a choice,” he rubbed the fake skin over his mechanical arm. “Can’t beat the arm though.”

Hanzo slipped out of his lap, leaving him feeling cold. “Only the best for a member of the Shimada-gumi.” he eased onto the other side of the futon, the thermos of tea taken with him.

“Yeah…” His chest was empty, guts clenched tight. As dirty and dangerous as the job was, some part of him would miss Hanzo, miss the beauty of Japan.

 

—

 

Hanzo showed no sign of sickness at the late night shoots, executing his role to perfection as usual but Jesse sensed something was still wrong. He didn’t bring it up though, leaning up against a tree out of the shot, black serape drawn around him like a bat’s wing. The chill eating away at the edges of his feet and the moon was bright and full of silver.

It glinted off the planes of Hanzo’s back, shirtless again as he ran through a fight scene. He was even more lovely in motion, the sparring they engaged in regularly adding believability to the exchange of blows and tumbling through the set. The yakuza held back, that much was clear to anyone with atrained eye, only fighting as well as his character was suppose to. The blond haired american would have been dead in a heartbeat in a real hand to hand battle.

It lasted half the night, fight scenes and a touching moment with Hanzo’s dead body taking most of the time. The rest was passed in makeup chairs and giving commentary for the DVD release scheduled for next fall. Hanzo seemed in control and calm, his easy serene personality in full affect.

Jesse could see the tension in the lines of his shoulder when no on was looking, the way a delicate foot tapped against the rung of his chair. The way he touched his hair, checking again and again that it was still perfectly disheveled. A makeup artist retouching his red eyeliner and powdering his cheeks to combat the shine of sweat.

Jack Morrison was next to him, exchanging conversation and laughing too loud. It grated on Jeses’s nerves and he left his hiding spot to approach. Conversation drifted up to him.

“Almost a year and you haven’t been to see his family yet?” Jack tucked, crossing his arms over his superman chest. 

Hanzo’s dark eyes went up to Jesse, a silent plea to be rescued from the mundane conversation clear. Jesse swaggered up, hooking his thumbs into his belt and grinning down at the two actors. “We been mighty busy, what with Hanner’s film and tv gigs. Haven’t had a chance t’visit the ol’ farm.”

“You came from a farming family? I grew up raising corn in Indiana,” Jack sat up straighter, those blue eyes sharp with interest.

“More of a ranchin’ one actually.”

“Can’t imagine Hanzo wrangling cattle.”

“He’s cuter than a button in a cowboy hat and chaps.” Jesse smirked, loving the dark blush creeping up Hanzo’s face. “Rides pretty well too.” He smirked, rocking back and tipping an invisible hat.

Jack was blushing, looking away. “I see, well,” he cleared his throat, “have you met Hanzo’s family?”

“He has met what little is left of it,” Hanzo cut in smoothly, rising to his feet and resting his hand on the small of Jesse’s back. His thumb rubbed soft circles into it, working under the hem of his shirt. “I am sure we will get to New Mexico sometime soon.” That beautiful face tilted up to him, a teasing question on his lips. “Perhaps when filming wraps up next week we can slip away for a week. I am excited to see the embarrassing baby pictures.”

“Shucks Darlin,” he bumped his hip into Hanzo, “I know Ma would be happy t’have me back and t’meet my fiancé finally.”

“You really haven’t met his family yet, Hattori-san?” Hana asked, popping a bubble as she joined their little circle.

“I have not had the time to get away.”

“Better do it soon,” she snickered, tapping away on her cellphone. “Before the paparazzi gets to them. You know how it is.”

A look of concern moved over his face, stiffening the smaller man. “I… had not thought of that. You are correct, Miss Song,” he bowed slightly to her before catching Jesse’s sleeve. “I believe we must have a talk and make plans.”

 

—

 

“You can’t be serious?” Jesse threw himself onto the couch, yanking off his boots and tossing them to the side.

“I am very serious.” Hanzo stooped to pick them up and set them outside for the staff to pick up and polish. He slid the shoji screen closed and returned to Jesse. “Your family will be questioned, now that our relationship is public.” he pulled on his yukata, starting to tie it up. 

“No way they will find’em, we’re not famous.”

“They will be found and questioned,” Hanzo sank onto the couch next to him, starting to brush his hair. It had been down all day for the filming and crew dinner, tangled and wild. “We must get to them first and brief them on the situation.”

“How do you imagine we do that?” he grunted, reaching over to take the brush from Hanzo. The man shifted to the side, presenting his mess of hair. Jesse eased closer, starting working out the tangles. 

“I presume, we would fly to your home state and rent a car to take us to your familial home.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes. Be gentle,” he grunted as Jesse snagged a tangle. 

Jesse muttered to himself in spanish, shifting to pick apart a knot with his fingers. “Just hello, Ma, I know I’ve been gone 14 months while in the service of a ‘business man’” the knot came undone and he started brushing again. “and guess what, I’ve fallen in love with him,” _that parts true at least,_ “and he proposed and we’re going to be getting married. Care t’be my maid of honor?”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo made a soft humming noise, close to laughter for him, “It may be a bit awkward at first.” he leaned back into the brushing, always a sucker for when Jesse played with his hair. “But it would be better to tell her, than for her to find out from a reporter or tv.”

“Well… I guess you’re right about that,” he sighed, pulling the weight of Hanzo’s hair to the side. The soft downy hairs at the base of his neck sticking out in strange directions. He gently smoothed them with the pads of his fingers. “You need a trim again.”

“You can do it.”

“Alright,” he dug in his pocket and pulled out the razor sharp knife he always carried. Flicking it open, he used a bit of gel from the tub on the coffee table to lube up the back of his neck. A shiver wracked over him. “Sorry Darlin,” he carefully massaged it into the hairs, warming up the cold liquid on his neck and shoulders. He squeezed a mass of muscle along his trap, rubbing a thumb over a hard knot.

A sinful moan rose from those full lips, heating Jesse to the core. “Mmm… that feels nice,” Hanzo’s head tilted forward, exposing more of his creamy skin. 

Jesse prayed for strength, massaging over velvety flesh and steel muscles. The knife flicked to Hanzo’s throat, a flash of silver in the golden light. He did this for the yakuza boss regularly, despite the on staff hairdresser. He had to admit how much he enjoyed it, twisting Hanzo’s hair into a fist. The blade skating over the new growth on his neck, cleaning him up. 

“It would be nice… t’see my family again.”

“Then we will fly to the states next week.”

“For how long?” Jesse closed the knife, wiping the tiny bit of scruff off with a handkerchief and returned to massaging the oil into his neck and shoulders. His yukata half open to give him access. 

“I can not be gone for long,” Hanzo’s eyes fluttered closed, “we will stay for a week.”

Jesse couldn’t keep a smile from his face, excitement bubbling up in his chest. “I can’t wait t’see them again.”

“You often talk of them fondly.”

“They’re my family,” he pressed on a particularly large knot and Hanzo winced under him. “I’ve missed them terribly.”

“Hmm,” Hanzo’s gaze was distant, focused on something unseen.

“Sides, it’ll be hilarious watching you try to live like a normal person.”

“I am capable of living normal.”

“Somehow I doubt you’ve ever shucked out a chicken coop or mucked a stable stall.”

“I have washed the blood of the slain off my hands and disposed of bodies.”

“Not the same,” he chuckled, hands drifting lower. The muscles along Hanzo’s shoulder blades tensing and relaxing. “Sides, I can’t wait t’see you in a pair of tight chaps riding a horse and driving cattle.”

A red wave swept over Hanzo’s shoulders and neck, practically steaming.

“I will try my best to impress your family.”

“Darlin, they’re gonna tear you apart.”

“How charming,” Hanzo snorted, leaning out of his reach and pulling his yukata into place again. “I will be prepared for a challenge. Though, I am sure I will not disappoint in chaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

“I forbid you to wear that.”

“Why?” Jesse spread his arms, sticking a hip out. Pink fleece pajama pants glowed in the cold light of Hanzo’s Apartment. The sparse decorations made it feel like a show home, cool gray walls with the occasional abstract art in black and white in slender frames. There were no pictures of Hanzo or the woman that appeared as his mother in public.

The tile was icy, even through thick wool socks. The man didn’t believe in rugs cluttering up his space. Or in throw blankets. Not even the ever present chill seeping through the floor to ceiling windows in the skyhigh living room could force him to clutter his space.

“I will not allow you to leave the house looking so…. So ridiculous!” Hanzo gestured sharply at his hips.

“C’mon, it’s funny,” Jesse laughed, showing his bedazzled ass to his boss. **_Texas Princess_** in rhinestones across the butt of his pajamas.

“It is absolutely not funny.” A sharp stomp of a small foot echoed in the large room.

“It’s hilarious.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Jesse shook his ass to make the stones sparkle, twerking the best he could. Which was not great.

“Stop it this instant!”

“Loosen up, Hanzo. It’s an 18 hour flight, gotta be comfortable.” They were going to the airport, driver waiting on the street already down below. 

“Take them off, I will not allow you outside wearing that!” another stamp of his Italian leather shoes on the hard floor. “Put on the suit I got you!”

“Is that an order?” he challenged, stepping into his boss’s space.

The cool touch of Hanzo’s fingers against the bare skin of his collarbone made him blink. a feathery touch pinning him in place as if he’s sprouted roots. “Do you wish to make me order you? Could you not do this the easy way for once?” a shiver coursed down his spine, Hanzo almost closing the distance between them. 

“What do you mean, Darlin’?” Jesse’s voice came out higher than he had hoped, aching to touch.

“You always insist on fighting me,” light tapping on the dip of his throat made it hard to think. “on the simplest things. From where to eat to what to wear.” Dark eyes kept his gaze captured.

“Well,” McCree began to reconsider, unable to stop his hand rising to Hanzo’s hip. the sleek suite jacket was cool to the touch. “I suppose I can change into the suit.” He sighed in defeat, knowing he had been conned by the actor’s spell. “but i’m going to complain about it.”

“I am willing to accept the compromise,” a low rumble welled from the smaller man’s throat, close to a chuckle. “you can wear it when we arrive at your familial ranch.”

Sparks burst in his chest, skittering through his limbs for some reason at the sound of that. 

“As you do look rather good in it,” hot fingertips skated over the 3 inches of bare skin between his shirt and pants. He jumped, hips jerking. Only clenched teeth kept a whimper of desire from escaping. Why was Hanzo doing this to him? No one could see into their room from this high up and the paparazzi were waiting on the street.

“I never was goin’ wear them outside, Hanners,” he sighed against the smaller man, hand sliding to the small of his back. “I know you got an image t’maintain.”

“So you’ll be on your best behavior?” 

The hot gust of words over his neck made his knees weak, heart thundering. “Yes, Sir,” the words popped out and he realized he’d been tricked.

“Good boy,” a gentle tap of Hanzo’s hand against his cheek and the man was walking away. The phone was already in his hand, typing out a work email or some mundane thing.

“you are the worst,” he grumbled but his boss was already out of the room. There wasn’t much he could do about it anyway. It wasn’t like he could actually deny anything Hanzo wanted, no matter how extreme or degrading. His life meant nothing to the shimada clan, he was entirely expendable. If Hanzo decided to kill him for his own insolence, no one would blink.

The thought weighed heavily on him, slowing his steps through the large apartment. There was no time to mope though, their plane would be leaving soon. The suit Hanzo had purchased from him with the nicest piece of clothing he’d ever owned and not by a little bit. It was the same brand Hanzo wore himself and a similar style. The tailor had made sure it fit perfectly. This was the first time he’d been forced to wear it though.

It really wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, pretty comfortable after all. 

 

—-

 

The plane was crowded, even in first class. Or maybe it was just the anxiety, Jesse’s bulk pressed against a leather seat by the window. He hated flying, the crowd, the loud noise, the being trapped. 

“You will be fine,” Hanzo lightly patted his wrist. “The worst is already over.”

“Says you,” he muttered, fidgeting. The tie was too tight. He loosened it, popping the top button on his crisp shirt. The plane was already in the air, nothing but endless ocean as far as he could see. The blue of sky and water meeting at the horizon. Nothingness. Hours and hours of moving without seeming to gain any space. He needed the earth beneath his feet and the sun on his back.

“I did not realize you were so scared of flying.”

“I’m not scared of flying.”

Hanzo leaned over into his space, nosing against the shell of his ear. “You’re going to break the arm of the seat with your mechanical arm if you don’t calm down.”

“What?” he blinked, startled as the tickle in his ear begged to be scratched away. The creaking of metal, plastic and leather brought him back to the present. He relaxed each digit of his arm at a time, breathing through the movement. It was hard to keep the sharp pressure in his chest from bursting out.

“I can get you a drink,” the yakuza boss waved over the stewardess. Her face was painfully bright and pleasant. Sweat gathered in the hollow of her throat despite the cold air blasting through the cabin. “Two whiskies, one on the rocks, one straight.”

She bowed deeply, replying in Japanese. He could tell it was the most formal speech pattern. 

“She know who you are?” he whispered, flexing his left arm to get some of the feeling back. 

“She is only overwhelmed by my… how would you say it in english?” he stroked his neatly trimmed beard, black leather gloves drawing out hisses from the strands. “Star power?”

“Oh, that’s good then,” Jesse relaxed as much as he could, firmly not looking out the window. “you should give her an autograph, make her day.”

“I am more concerned with how you are doing.”

“Shucks, sugar,” he twisted to put his back to the window. His knees bumped against Hanzo’s. The man didn’t pull away. “I’m… i’m just fine, just…”

“You’re scared of flying,” Hanzo nodded, serenely meeting his gaze. The amusement and a touch of pity in those dark brown depths. 

“I’m not scared of flying,” he insisted, biting back a string of curses as the stewardess came over with their drinks. “Thanks, love,” he raised the small glass and tossed it back in one gulp. It burned down his throat. Honey gold, oozing past his tongue and down into his guts. The heat blossoming a moment later, stinging the back of his throat. 

Hanzo shook his head in disapproval. His own tumbler held lightly, letting the sun through the window throw shards of light across his regal face. “How unsophisticated.”

The prickling in his cheeks was from more than the alcohol. Stuck up little shit. He surged forward, wrapping his arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and pulling him in. “Thanks little lady, don’t suppose you’d like a picture with the grand Hattori Hanzo?”

Pink spread over her cheeks and she covered her face with her hands. Her big brown eyes sparkling with hope but not willing to insist. 

“Here, give me your phone and i’ll snap it for ya,” Hanzo was glaring daggers at him. “Hanners doesn’t mind, he just gets shy sometimes.”

She bowed deeply, offering her phone. Whatever her and Hanzo were talking about in Japanese went right over his head. He held the unlocked phone up, getting them both in frame. She didn’t dare get too close, kneeling a bit. Hanzo had a charming smile held up over his face.

“say cheese!” he clicked a few, forcing his asshole boss to stay in character for a little longer. “Got it,” the grin split his face, head buzzing as he gave the phone back. She held it to her chest, bowing again and again before retreating down the rows.

The signature Death GlareTM did little to dampen his glee. “You are insufferable. I was trying to help you with your fear of flying.”

“I’m not afraid of flying,” he plucked Hanzo’s drink from his hand.

“Don’t drink it, Jesse.”

“Why?” He held it up, watching the light dance through it. 

“Alcohol affects you differently in high altitude. It will get you drunk.”

“Boy howdy I hope so.” His hand was caught, paused with the drink almost to his lips. “C’mon, I gotta loosen up. Maybe sleep through a good chunk.”

“No.” the words firm and insistent. It only made him want to down it more. Hanzo seemed to sense it, fingers digging into his arm. Demanding eyes pinned him in place, red eyeliner seeming to glow in the passing sweep of sun through the clouds. He couldn’t look away, chest too tight.

Dark lashes drifted lower as Hanzo’s gaze left his. The simmering intent falling to the whiskey tumbler. Each shallow breath fogged on the glass. The heat of Hanzo’s body caressing over his skin. A cool caress of a silk tie over his thigh sent wildfires coursing through his veins. The finely crafted curve of an arrogant mouth deepened. The smugness sweet and thick as honey as the actor pressed his lips to the glass. 

Every hair on his body stood up, tingling as Hanzo drank from the glass in his hand. So close he could hear the wet parting of the smaller man’s lips and the slow, languid swallow. A droplet glimmered on his lip. 

“You have convinced me of one thing,” the words brushed over his throat, “I enjoy a little bite.” The glass disappeared from his hand. “So tell me, Jesse,” a hand settled over his, twining their fingers together. A moment of fear washed over him, what if he tensed and crushed his fingers in his robotic hand. “If you are not afraid of flying, what are you afraid of?”

“Don’t laugh.”

Something painful flicked through his eyes. “I will not.”

Jesse searched that steady gaze, wondering what was real and what was part of the act. What was for him and what was for the other passengers around them. His head was too light, he couldn’t help himself. The cool press of Hanzo’s hair against his cheek calmed him, something to hold onto. 

“I’m scared of the ocean.” a thumb brushed over his knuckles, caressing the little dips at the root of each finger. “i’m scared of drowning in the dark, of disappearing forever and never being found.”

“I will always find you,” Hanzo’s voice coiled inside him, something fierce and dangerous and too good to be true in the words. “You are not going to disappear, Jesse McCree.”

His eyes drifted closed and he breathed in the sweet musky scent of his boss’s hair, the whiskey spiraling through his brain. He was glad Hanzo had stopped him from taking another drink. 

 

—

Over eighteen hours later, they were getting out of a rental in a swirl of red dust. The old ranch house looming against a bright sky. It had seen better days but there was a solidness that came from weathering almost a century to it. The once bright colors needed a repaint and the screen door banged when the wind shifted.

The low lulling of cows passed a crooked fence was carried over them. A familiar if foul stink came with it. Hanzo covered his mouth with a hand, grimacing.

“City boy,” Jesse laughed, holding their bags as the taxi drove away into the clouds of dust from the dirt road.

“I will get used to it.”

“Mmhmm,” he was too exhausted to tease much more, taking their luggage and climbing the limestone steps to the broad front porch. It was nothing compared to places Hanzo was used to but it was home.

“Jesse!” 

He only had time to turn his head before he was half knocked off his feet by a denim blur. Strong arms wrapped around him, picking him clear off the ground. “Mabel!” he shouted, air squeezed out of his lungs.

The amazon of a woman grinned, setting him down carefully. The flicker of unease that went through Hanzo had him laughing. 

“You mustta be Hans-zo!” her square face cracked with a smile, bright blue eyes twinkling. The long golden braid over her shoulder glittered in the hot sunlight. “Jess has told me much about ya.”

“Greetings,” Hanzo warily extended his hand and it was quickly captured in a big paw. 

“Mabel, don’t overwhelm the poor thing,” A lilting voice called out. A slim figure stood in the open front door, a regal full mouth smiling fondly. “Come inside, I have your room ready. I know you will wish to shower and rest.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Hanzo touched his breast, crumpled suit coated in a fine layer of dust.

Jesse lead the way, the big woman flanking him on the other side. She had scooped up their luggage like it was nothing. “So you’ve met Mabel, my adopted sister,” the woman waved, “and this lovely woman is my ma.”

He could see the confusion on Hanzo’s face and the amusement on his ma’s as the man tried to work out how to address her. “Mrs McCree,” he started, bringing out a giggle from Mabel.

“Please, call me Ma, or Mama McCree if you must,” she laughed behind her hand, russet skin crinkling around her eyes. “I hope you will think of me as your own mother, since you are going to be part of the family I hear.”

The blush on the smaller man’s face could have been used to start a small fire. He stammered and Jesse caught his eye. “That’s right, Hanners,” he put an arm around his boss, hand sliding dangerously low on his hip. “you’ll be part of the family soon enough!”

 

—

 

The handmade quilt was soft under his fingertips. Lived in. Made with love. There was nothing like it. It even smelled the same. The faint smell of sunshine and prairie grass and the fresh lavender his ma liked to toss in the dryer. 

He was laying face down on it, greedy breathes soaking it in. Exhaustion hung on every nerve, weighing him down on the modest full sized mattress. A clatter from the little bathroom attached to the room made him lift his head momentarily.

A Japanese curse let him know Hanzo hadn’t slipped to his death and that was good enough for him. He had opted to just collapse straight into the bed. It was going on over 24 hours without sleep. 

“You still have your shoes on.”

“Ugh,” he didn’t open his eyes.

“You will get dirt in the bed.”

“Mmhmm.”

A drop of water splashed over his calf, soaking through the dress slacks. The hair on his legs stood up as it was followed by another drop. Fingers curled around his ankle, still wet. He didn’t fight it.

Hanzo eased the dress shoe off his tired feet, letting it drop to the floor. The clatter was softened by a thick cowhide rug. Another drop of water fell to his leg and then, the tingling slickness of damp hair as his other shoe was removed.

A low chuckle drifted up his body. Heat billowing in its wake.

“I see you found a way to rebel after all.”

“Hm?” he managed to lift his heavy head. Hanzo was kneeling at the foot of the bed, those killer hands caressing down his ankle to his feet.

“Sit on a cactus,” A manicured nail scratched down the arch of his foot. He jerked, spasming at the tickle. “A charming suggestion.”

“My favorite socks,” Jesse laughed, wiggling his foot teasingly against Hanzo’s grip. “especially when i’m around you.”

A light hum greeting him as the mattress dipped under Hanzo’s weight. “Perhaps i will just sit on one this week as you suggest.”

“What?” Jesse’s brain was struggling to keep up, cursing Hanzo for seeming to still have his wits about him.

“Get some sleep Jesse, we will need our energy to convince your family we are together. I think a strategy-“

Jesse cut him off, reaching back to grab a handful of cotton robe and drag Hanzo down next to him. “shut up and sleep,” he huffed, too tired to lift his arm from where it had fallen across Hanzo’s back. The man didn’t fight it much, muttering to himself before jet lag claimed them both.

 

—

 

it was the middle of the night when Jesse finally woke up. The house was creaking in the wind, an old familiar sound. Cold drafts slipping through cracks as the prairie’s endless clear sky let in the silverly light of stars. 

A familiar silhouette stood in front of the window, tension in every line of powerful shoulders. “Hanzo?” his voice rasped. “You alright?”

Thin, warbling howls rose from the edges of the dark. the flood lights around the house and barnsfading into nothingness. The prairie grasses shivering like ocean waves in the wind. Groaning rumbled up from the bones of the old house, a symptom of age.

“Hanzo?”

When the man didn’t turn, Jesse dragged himself to his feet. The dry air making his eyes gummy. Grossness clinging to him. he really should have showered when they got here. 

The assassin didn’t look at him, staring out into the night. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “This house is not secure.”

“Sure isn’t,” Jesse rested his shoulder against the window well. His knee on the bench underneath it for support. “We’re the only people for miles around.” 

“What is the howling?” 

Jesse tapped a cigarette out. The benefits of sleeping in your clothes becoming apparent. “Just coyotes, they’re harmless for the most part.” Hanzo shifted closer to him, holding his palm out for a cigarette. Jesse handed one over and pulled out his lighter. “Mama doesn’t allow smokin’ indoors but…” he cracked the old window. it had a little latch to keep it in place. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes but leaned into the flame Jesse offered. It glowed in his eyes. They breathed the smoke out together, clouds mingling before whispering away out the window. Beautiful lips pressed around it and Jesse struggled to look away.

“You should come back t’bed,” he breathed the fire inside, imaging the ash coated him inside. “get a few hours in before the family wakes up.”

“Why does your sister live here still?”

“Hm?” he blinked, surprised Hanzo cared at all. “Mabel? She stays here to help with the cattle and horses.”

“Why in the same house?” A weary sigh escaped him and he tried to run a hand through his hair. It snagged on a thick tangle and he yelped.

“Sit down,” Hanzo’s voice held no room for argument and he plopped down onto the window bench. “I will get it out.” The fingers curled through his mad hair, surprisingly gentle. It was almost relaxing and after the long flight, he couldn’t deny how much he wanted to feel more of Hanzo’s hands.

The press of dark eyes was like a caress over his cheeks. Hanzo still wanted answers. There wasn’t much to say really but he’d been careful to never talk too much about his family. Just in case he fucked up and the Shimada clan decided to take revenge. There wasn’t much he could do about that now.

“Since… I left,” a fingernail scratched gently down his scalp to his neck. “Ma’s been living here alone. Two months ago she got bucked off a horse and cracked her head on the ground. She was out for hours before one of the farmhands found her. Mabel was out in California at that point and i was…”

“With me.”

“Yeah…” Hanzo’s hands on his shoulders stilled. He wondered if his neck would be snapped if he continued. “so Mabel turned in her badge and moved out here t’keep an eye on her.”

“Badge?” Cool fingers stroked along his traps and swooshed down along his spine.

“She was a sherif.”

“Hmm. This trip is more dangerous than I imagined.”

“Nah,” Jesse couldn’t resist leaning into the caress. Hanzo had never touched him this way, so softly. “She’s not gonna arrest ya. Cuz she’d have to arrest me too. i was no saint before I left and… she knows better than t’ask questions she doesn’t want answers to.”

Skilled fingers continued to knead the muscles in his neck and shoulders. He waited for Hanzo to process the information and decide if it changed anything.

“Why… didn’t you tell me your mother was injured?”

“Hm? it didn’t seem t’matter. We were going after that trafficker in Osaka and you didn’t let me leave your side for weeks.”

“I would have let you go.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

 

—-

 

Bright sun beat down on the grassland, a light breeze filling the air with soft rustling. Lulling cows meandered in the pasture closest to the house, stopping to drink from the tank under the windmill. A small creek babbled not far away, lined on both banks by old hedge trees. 

“C’mon Hanners,” Jesse laughed, leading the tall quarter horse over to the fence. Hanzo was perched on the top rung, hair ribbon billowing around him. It flashed gold in the sun. “you have t’go on a ride with us, it’s a family tradition!”

“Join us, Hanzo,” Mabel called over to them, her powerful gray gelding dancing in place. Mama McCree shot them an inviting smile. “unless you don’t know how to ride?”

“I know how to handle a horse,” he stuck his nose up in the air, “I am simply not familiar with this style of riding.”

“Well we don’t got an english saddle,” Jesse shrugged, knowing that look on Hanzo’s face. Stubborn but anxious. “So it’s ride old Serra,” he patted the powerful neck of one of their most docile steeds, “or ride with me.”

“Fine, I will ride you.”

Lightning chased down his spine, a raw and hungry need flooding every cell of his body. “Hans,” he forced himself to slow down and take in a breath, “Ya missed a word there.” his cock was trying to spring to life, straining his jeans. “You’ll ride with me.”

“I know what i said,” the man snapped, tossing his head.

“Do ya now?” He chuckled, taking off Serra’s halter and saddle. The rest of the tack could wait. “Then c’mon, baby.”

“Do not call me baby,” the man hissed, but pushed off the fence and followed him. 

Dust from the paddock rambled around their boots. Hanzo had borrowed a pair of Mabel’s, their feet just about the same size. McCree’s had been far too big, something that caused an irrational amount of glee.

His trusty steed was waiting for him, eager to get moving. He knew Mabel and his Ma exercised him plenty but there was nothing quit like being back in the saddle. He swung up, ass settling perfectly in the leather western saddle.

Hanzo cautiously approached, eyes just a little too wide. This was nothing like the stunt horse he rode on set and there were no handlers waiting in the wings to take over. 

Jesse leaned down, cowboy hat casting a shadow over the smaller man. “i’ll take care of you Hanners, i won’t let you fall.”

Hanzo’s cheeks dusted rose and he ducked his head. the white button down straining over his shoulders. “Promise?”

“I won’t let you look foolish either,” Jesse reached down and Hanzo took his hand. He pulled him up, the man landing behind him. 

“I appreciate it.” 

Jesse stiffened as a warmth pressed between his shoulder blades. The gust of Hanzo’s breath ruffling his shirt. Strong arms wrapped around his middle, not too tight. He tilted his head back, “just have fun Hanzo. relax.”

“Just ride, cowboy.” 

 

—

 

“Aw shucks, aren’t you two just too damn cute!” Mabel laughed, Mama McCree joining in.

“Jesse likes to try my nerves,” Hanzo sighed into his iced beer mug.

“I do no such thing, sweetheart,” Jesse leaned into his boss more, pinning him against the arm of the porch swing.

“You are doing it now.”

“Can’t blame me for wantin’ a little bit of sugar.”

“Later!”

“Don’t make me wait any more,” Jesse nuzzled into his boss’s neck, leavinglight kisses in his wake.

It was so good to be home, to have his sister laughing and more relaxed than he’d seen her in years and his mother smiling and forcing them to eat till they were stuffed to the bursting. There was nothing like his mama’s cooking and even Hanzo had been enthusiastic and grateful for the spread.

A small speaker rested on the worn out porch boards, playing some slow smooth country song. Fireflies playing in the wide expanse of yard in front of the house. Mabel had taken up a seat on the edge of the porch, her body half turned towards them while she drank single malt scotch. Her long braid wrapped around her neck in a scarf against the evening chill. Temperatures could drop fast out here, specially when the wind chased off the blanket of clouds.

“Do you have a date for the wedding yet?” Mama McCree asked, hands folded in her lap. The rocking chair moving to the song’s beat. 

Jesse pulled back from tormenting his fake lover. The beer in his free hand suddenly becoming more interesting. “I.. don’t reckon we’ve picked a date yet. Really haven’t talked much about it at all.”

“Thought you guys had been engaged for a few months?” Mabel piped up.

Hanzo’s hand curled into his, sending a shiver of heat up his spine. “We were waiting to talk to you first, Mama McCree,” Jesse found himself blushing harder. “Jesse has told me, many times, how much he would like to get married here. In his favorite place in the world.”

The look in his mother’s eyes nearly broke his heart. “Mama,” he started to get up, seeing tears in her soft brown eyes. “Mama, why are you crying?”

“I never thought this moment would come.” She rose from the chair, holding onto him fiercely. “My boy, finally happy and with someone that actually loves him,” he flinched, all the heat draining out of him. His gaze straight ahead, off into the dark. 

Hanzo was at his side, steps silent and broad arms were wrapping around both of them. “I will take care of him, Mama McCree,” she turned to him, burying her weathered face into his broad chest. It wrung his heart. “You don’t have to worry, Jesse will be safe with me. I will always take care of him.”

“Make sure to keep him from getting into trouble.”

 

—-

 

The hot water drummed on his chest, steam rising in thick tendrils. It smelled of eucalyptus and pine, doubtlessly from Hanzo’s own shower. The man was always clogging drains with all his fancy soaps and oils and bath bombs. And long black hairs that he never bothered to clean up. There were already strands winding across the shower walls.

They hadn’t spoken since they left the porch.

Jesse’s heart sitting in his guts like a stone. Someday they would ‘break up’ and Jesse would be free of the Shimada Clan. Hanzo could go back to his organized, scheduled out life of crime and the silver screen.

Where did that leave him? 

He could come back to the ranch and help, freeing Mabel to go back to the law. He could return to bounty hunting, life on the line every day and nothing but dirty hotel mattresses and sleeping in his truck. 

_i could stay with him,_ the thought was treacherous, making his chest tighten. 

“Jesse, I need to talk to you.”

“It can wait till i’m done,” he rolled his eyes, dunking his head back under the water to wash out the conditioner.

“You have been in there half an hour.”

“i’m washing my chest hair,” he grunted, just trying to have a moment alone to think. 

“Perhaps I can help then. You have been in here too long.” The door creaked, sending a streak of panic of through him.

“Get the fuck out,” he bellowed, instinctively grabbing for his towel. It was whipped off the top of the glass door and out of his reach. “Hanzo, this isn’t fucking funny.” He shoved the wet hair out of his face.

“I wish to talk to you and you are avoiding me.”

“Cuz maybe i don’t want to talk to you.” He could see Hanzo through the etched glass shower doors. “Let me shower in peace.”

“Tell me what you are thinking”

“Is that an order?” He sneered, crossing his arms. He had no parts left to wash but he wasn’t ready to get out. Especially with Hanzo holding his towel and the thought of being joined under the hot water was running through his head. 

A weary sigh cut through the steam and rustling as Hanzo sat on the sink counter. “I would rather not force you… i genuinely want to know, what I have done wrong.”

“You’re admitting you might have messed up?” Jesse was incredulous, opening the door wide enough to stick his head out. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hanzo’s brow jumped. The man looked small in a borrowed fuzzy robe, uncertain with his hair down. A softness clung to him, something honest. “I… want to know why I have upset you.”

“You took it too far,” Jesse whispered, turning the water off with a twist of his wrist. 

“I did?”

Jesse sighed, resting his back against the cold tiles. “All that stuff… bout taking care of me forever and always being there.”

“I will always take care of you.”

“I’m not a dog,” he growled, restlessly running his hands over his face. “or… or a piece of property.”

“Jesse,” there was pain in that voice and the shadow came closer to the glass. “Do you really believe I feel that way about you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 should go up Saturday, April 29!


	5. Chapter 5

Heat flared through Jesse, searing more than the water had. Blood rushed in his ears, a hand pressed to the frosted glass. “Let me put on some pants… and we can talk.”

“Thank you, Jesse.” 

The soft click of the door closing and he was suddenly alone. _Fuck,_ he sighed, resting his forehead against the shower door. It was too much, exhausted and tired and dreading the talk they needed to have.

The tile was cold, making his toes curl as he stepped out. He dripped his way to the sink to get his towel and dry off. His pajamas were warm and welcoming at least. Fighting off the chill of spring nights on the prairie.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob, focusing on steadying his breathing. Hanzo just didn’t act like this. Didn’t want to have talks about feelings and say things that made his heart hurt and his stomach flipflop.

Hanzo was sitting on the window bench, gazing out into the starry sky. Dark eyes eventually found his, glowing in the soft light of the room. His beautiful hair falling softly around his face. There was something different about him, ever since they got off the plane, he had not been himself.

Their knees brushed as Jesse joined him on the bench. It was too close. His eyes trailing down the elegant curve of his boss’s neck. The robe was half open, a supple curve of muscle begging to be explored. The dragon tattoo spiraling away from his full tit.

Hanzo didn’t look at him, peering out at the dark.

“What is going on with you?” he grumbled, resting his head back against the wall. His fingers itched for a cigarette. Or a drink. A large drink of something nearly toxic.

When Hanzo finally met his eyes, there was a storm behind them. “Do you really not understand?” the line of his mouth pressing together. “Jesse…”

A shiver ran down his spine, his name whispered like a prayer. “Hanzo, I can’t ever read you. You're…always living six different lives and I don’t fit into any of them. I can never tell when you’re just being you or when you’re acting.”

“I am never just me,” bitterness cut through like a knife, those large hands balling into fists. “Do you think the clan does not watch me always? Every minute of my life is under surveillance, demanding complete obedience.”

“What?” 

“Even in my own home, Jesse, they are always keeping an eye on me.” A hand fell to his chest, tangling in his shirt and pulling him forward. “this is the first time i’ve been free in years.”

His head spun, bewildered by the realization. There was something in his throat, making his voice rasp. “God, Hanzo really?”

“Of course, do you think I treat you so roughly purely for my own enjoyment?”

Shockwaves radiated through him, from his heart to his cold feet. “I… didn’t realize. I… wait, like even in your apartment?”

“Yes.”

“In my room?”

“Yes?” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

Blood rushed straight to his cock, cheeks darkening to ruddy tides. “N-no reason,” he coughed to keep a hysterical laugh from bubbling out. The clan would be under no misconception about how he felt about their crown prince then. Or at least that he had lain in bed with Hanzo’s dirty shirt balled between his teeth, stroking his cock the morning they had left Japan. Hanzo’s name a never ending prayer on his lips till he had come all over his hand and stomach. And wiped it off with a silk shirt that cost more than his life all before Hanzo woke up.

“Hmm, I will have to request the files of the recording when we return to Japan.”

“Yup,” he ran a hand through his damp hair, lightheaded. They had been talking about something serious right? “So… you’re saying… uh.”

“You foolish man,” Hanzo sighed dramatically, a laugh in his eyes. It didn’t quite reach the surface. “But,” the hand in his shirt relaxed, drifting up in a tantalizing whisper to his throat. Jesse couldn’t help but shiver in desire. “You are my friend, Jesse… at least, I wish to be your friend, if you can be friends with someone like me.”

“I ain’t no saint either. Hell, can’t believe your own family is spying on ya.”

“They are not my family.” Jesse raised a brow, the ice in Hanzo’s mouth colder than the night outside. “They’re my masters. I’m chained to them.” He nearly spat the words, every line of his face cut from stone.

Jesse whistled softly, resting back against the window well. He struggled to process the new information, seeing the pieces falling together. Hanzo’s crossed legs unfolded, sliding to notch between his own drawn up legs. Something was dangerous in those dark eyes again, too soft, too vulnerable to be real.

“I didn’t realize… you were feeling as trapped as me,” he shifted, letting his calf glide along Hanzo’s. “I just… I don’t know Hanzo, I thought you just liked fucking with me.”

“Idiot,” the man rolled his eyes. “I picked you because… the dragons liked you and they are better judges of character than I.”

“Mmmhmm,” he just smiled, focusing on the heat of a bare calf pressing through his Texas Princess PJs. 

“I…” Hanzo trailed off, “I liked you too.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Delicate shivers wracked his body. “I would like to get to know you more, while we have… this brief time of privacy.”

Heat blossomed in his chest, curling around the tough shell of his heart. A prickle of fear quick behind it. He had to choose his words wisely, something he was never very good at. “Hanzo, I wanna know you too…” his hand moved without meaning too, bridging the distance between them. Hanzo’s cheek was so smooth, a crisp contrast to the trimmed beard hair. “I wanna know the real you.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Ain’t nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hmm, we will see about that.”

“I’m a outlaw assassin turned gun-for-hire whose been babysitting a magical ninja gangster-“

“I am not a ninja!”

“Just your brother then,” he amended, smile growing wider with every moment. “So I think living on the ranch for a week with you, won’t be an issue.”

“Genji is an embarrassment,” Hanzo chuckled, but it was fond and full of warmth. “Last I heard he was living in California.”

“I’m sure he’s loving it out there, beautiful coastline.”

A lull in the conversation had Jesse watching the darkness but his mind was focused on the lazy way Hanzo shifted to sit lower on the bench. Their legs tangling, Hanzo’s sharp rabbit foot nudged at the underside of his thigh. 

“Whaddy think you’re doing?” he huffed, not moving away but not lifting his weight from his hips.

“Nothing. So your sister knows you are an outlaw?” 

Jesse knew it was a diversion but he chose to chase it. Those long toes were kneading into the muscle of his thigh, easing some of the tension.

“Something like that. We had… an understanding, back when I was running with Deadlock and after. Wasn’t going by Jesse McCree then, neither were they.” he chuckled fondly at the memory, shaking his head. “Mabel knows I was stuck in Japan with… business…” Hanzo rolled his eyes, “But I doubt she knows just who you are. For the moment.”

“Will she already be researching me?”

“Definitely. She’ll have lifted your fingerprint from the dinner glass and have one of her tech friends run it by morning.”

“Hmm, that should make breakfast interesting.”

“Yup.” Jesse grunted as a narrow, ice cold foot shoved under his left ass cheek. “keep your ice cubes to yourself,” he tried to ease away but the other foot claimed the heat of his butt when he tried. He glared at his boss, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go put on some socks and pants.” The fuzzy robe falling just a little too open at throat and thigh for his liking.

Quite the opposite but going to bed with a boner seemed like a very bad idea. 

Toes wriggled beneath him, shoving deeper. A toe slipped closer to his core and he twitched,ass clenching tight. 

“I don’t like wearing socks to bed.”

“Then just go to bed,” he pointed, fighting to keep the red from his face. 

“I’m not really tired yet.”

“Yeah… me neither really.” It was an absolute lie. He could go to bed right now and sleep for about six weeks. He didn’t have the heart to part just yet.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

 

—-

 

The stars twinkled above them, quaint as a picture in the endless expanse of uncluttered sky. Chilly air rustled the prairie grass. The quiet murmurings cracked by the occasional scamper of some small creature.

Boots crunched softly on cut pathway along the creek. Moonlight streamed through the trees in ribbons. They seemed to twine invitingly along Hanzo’s face. A borrowed serape pulled up to his nose and Mabel’s one attempt at knitting pulled down low. The man patently refused to wear a stetson or a baseball cap. He had been lucky to find the slightly lumping beanie at the back of his chest of drawers from some forgotten winter.

Jesse tucked his hands deeper into his pockets, his favorite red serape draped around him. It needed to be washed, reeking of smoke and liquor. He found it oddly comforting in the dark. He hadn’t been home in so long, not that this was his home anymore. Sounds that had once been comforting, flicking at the edge of his nerves.

Sleeping cows were dark spots on grass turned silver in the light. They didn’t stir at the intruders walking along the creek. The light of the farmhouse out of sight behind the swell of a gentle hill. They had been walking in silence. Jesse’s emotions tumbled in rapid succession, anger bubbling only to fade away the next moment. Exhaustion weighed on his heart, wishing things were clear. Hanzo had been pretending this whole time. He didn’t even know his boss. 

“It is strange, to have land open to the horizon.” Hanzo murmured, their shoulders brushing lightly. A creaking in the hedge trees was unsettling above in the darkness. 

“I reckon it does feel mighty odd, after living packed in.” He agreed, hopping over a large tree root as he lead the way along the cow path. “I miss the open air, the feeling of just… like you could fly away?” A chuckle bubbled past his cold lips, turning into a laugh as Hanzo thumped into him with a curse. “Ninja can’t see in the dark?”

“Shut up!” a light thump on his shoulder, “It is part of your cowboy magic.”

“Now don’t you start that again,” he turned, bumping into Hanzo. He was standing on the tree’s root, suddenly on eye level with him.

“I know what I saw,” the beautiful man pointed to one dark brown eye, shivering still despite his layers. “There was a tumbleweed, you summoned a tumbleweed before you killed those drug dealers.”

“It was just a coincidence,” Jesse shrugged, not really sure why there always seemed to be tumbleweeds around when he used Deadeye. Just thinking about it sent a sharp jolt of pain through his left eye into his brain. 

Tender fingers trailed along his cheeks, dipping into the tired circles carved into his skin. The callused pads of Hanzo’s thumbs brushed up and down the line of his nose. “I have often wondered, if it caused you pain. I believe I have my answer.”

Jesse nodded weakly, the throbbing behind his eye could develop into a full blown migraine if he wasn’t lucky. Hanzo’s gentle massage on his face was doing something magical. Easing the throbbing as thumbs dug gently into the pressure points on his face. His eyes drifted closed, a willing prisoner to the relief. 

“So… the real you is mighty good with those hands,” he grinned, nuzzling a little deeper into the touches. 

“Hmm, do not make me regret attempting to be more ‘open’ and ‘honest’ with you.”

“Just sayin’ you never done anythin’ like this before,” he murmured, the heel of Hanzo’s hand lightly brushing across his lips as he worked the knots of muscle around his jaw.

“I… am sorry, for how I have treated you.” Hanzo’s thumb brushed over his eyelid. 

He snorted, cracking open his real eye. “You better fucking be.”

“I am.”

“For what exactly?” He challenged, knowing Hanzo could blind him with the slightest twitch of is wrist. Have him killed. Order him to his knees… 

A flash of anger shot across that regal face before it calmed. It was not easy for the yakuza boss to admit his errors or recount them. A hot breath gusted across his face. “Fine. I apologize for almost getting you killed.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he shook his head, fingers digging into the smaller man’s hips.

“Perhaps I have enjoyed my power over you too much.”

“Like makin’ me run your errands,” he eased closer, “And clean your shoes and do your dirty work.”

“I am…I do feel remorse for some of that. You are my servant while you repay your debt.”

“Don’t mean you gotta tease me so much,” Jesse sulked, tugging their hips flush. “Taken advantage and makin’ me pretend t’be your lover when you just like t’order me around.”

Hanzo wouldn’t look him in the eye, cheeks ruddy. “The need for that, is what I regret the most.”

“Cuz everyone’s thinking your gay now?”

“Not exactly.”

“Cuz you're gonna break my mama’s heart and make an enemy of Mabel?”

“I suppose. I do not wish to hurt your mother but I will take care of you. You have served myself and the clan well. We will not let a friend fall into harm.”Sadness bloomed in his gut, shards of ice growing out from his core. “You will always be… someone special to me, Jesse McCree.”

“Special servant,” he muttered bitterly, eyes hardening as their gazes clashed.

Hanzo’s fierce eyebrows furrowed sharply, casting a shadow over his eyes. The caress of his gaze traced along Jesse’s mouth. He gulped, heart kicking into a new gear. The chill in the air sizzling between them, desire or anger surging for dominance. 

They were so close, breath mingling in clouds of fog. _Don’t kiss the fucker,_ he ached to close the distance, an invisible line tugging him. _Don’t you fucking dare._

Hanzo’s fingers had stilled, spread along his jaw. The scruff of his beard tingled at the contact, pinpricks of desire dancing along his spine. Hanzo didn’t lean in, eyes unreadable. The slightest shift would have pushed Jesse over the edge, unable to control the need for the other man. A burning desire to see Hanzo humbled snarling through him.

The man cocked his head to the side, breaking their eye contact. “Do you see that?”

“Wha?” he struggled through the fog of desire, looking in the direction Hanzo was. Lights. Flickering back and forth from the far side of the pasture away from the house. “Flashlights.”

“Do you employ night time workers?”

“Sure don’t.”

They exchanged a look.

“Trouble.”

 

—-

 

Without their gear, they could only creep through the dark to spy from the cover of the trees. It had not gotten them much more information and their mood was somber as they returned to the house. 

A crimson glow on the front porch flickered and grew brighter. It danced across the wide planes of Mabel’s face, what was visible. A handkerchief tied around her neck and a broad hat tipped down gave cover against the cold wind.

“You saw ‘em?” her deep voice rumbled out with the smoke.

Hanzo tensed bedside him, sliding his arm through Jesse’s. The bigger man nodded, walking to the broad steps and taking a seat. Hanzo dropped fluidly to the pathway in front of them. The serape wrapped tightly around him, fighting the shivers admirably. 

“Yup,” Jesse put his hand out and it was begrudgingly filled with a cigar. She lit it for him and offered her own to Hanzo. 

“Since m’brother’s not polite enough t’offer you one.”

“No, thank you, Mabel,” the japanese man’s face was unreadable before a smile cracked over it. “Do you wish to share a bite?” he offered a flask from somewhere under the folds of the serape.

Mabel grinned, crows feet scrambling around her eyes. She took the flask and swigged deeply. “Damn, I like yer man’s taste,” she passed it over and Jesse took his own drink. 

“It’s good whiskey.”

“Only the best for you,” Hanzo chuckled, a musical sound in the cold air.

They shared a moment of grins and a familiar comfort. Mabel was the first to speak, stubbing out her cigar and tucking the remainder into her pocket. “I was hopin’ t’talk to you in the mornin’ but things can’t wait much longer.”

“Why didn’t you talk t’me earlier?” Resentment towards Hanzo flared, glaring at the man. He had missed so much of his family’s life. He hadn’t been here to protect his ma and their home.

Hanzo lowered his gaze.

“Was tryin’ t’do this the easy way.” She leaned back, resting her weight on her elbows. The flash of a pearl handle drew his gaze to the Colt 1860 Army revolver strapped to her thigh. “Tried reasonin’ and goin’ to the local law but nothing’s been done. Looks like I’m gonna have t’do it the hard way.”

“Who is the enemy?” Hanzo’s familiar grim face almost reassuring. This was the Hanzo he knew. “We will crush them.”

Her brow rose and a startlingly wolfish smile cut across her mouth. “Showin’ your true colors then, Hanzo Shimada.”

Jesse lunged forward, hands flung wide. He caught Hanzo’s wrist as he reached for the knife in his boot and covered the clasp on Mabel’s revolver. She growled, throwing her weight to the side and dumping him onto his ass in the grass. Hanzo’s knife was ready to throw, brutal animalistic snarl bubbling on his lips.

Blue sparks danced along his arm, burning holes in the serape. They arched across his skin and a deep howl threaded into the wind, billowing to a raging storm.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Jesse was between them in a heartbeat. Mabel’s eyes were wide, mouth tugging into a frown. “Fuck, calm down both of your.” he glared at Hanzo who just curled his lip at him. The knife was glowing bright blue, static crackling through the air between them. “Mabel, lower your gun before you get us both killed.”

“You brought a yakuza boss to our home,” She snapped, but the gun lowered. “You fell in love with Hanzo fucking Shimada?”

Jesse’s face flushed. “So what?” he stepped into her space, eye to eye. “We’re the same, do you hate me too?”

“You’re nothing alike,” fire danced in her blue eyes, “and you’ve never threatened to kill me.”

“That’s not true.”

She hesitated, gaze breaking to dart passed Jesse’s shoulder to the smaller man. “Fair enough.” They shard a chuckle and the colt slid into the holster with a hiss. “That was a crazy fourth of July.”

“One of the best though.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, twirling the knife and shoving it back into the boot sheath. The serape smoldered on his left arm and he shook it off. Ash ghosted over the wind, blown away instantly.

The low humming slowly broke down and faded away, the static in the air lessening. Both cowboys breathed a sigh of relief. Their smiles eerily similar as Jesse slung his arm around Mabel’s broad shoulders. “So, now that we’re done measurin’ our cocks,” he grinned between them, “Tell me what I’ve missed, Mabel. Me and Hanners take care of the trouble, keep your hands nice and squeaky clean.”

She clapped him on the back and offered her hand to the smaller man. He glowered at them, trying to stand taller. His chin up and posture rigid. After a long moment he took her hand and they both jumped.

Blue lightning snaked across the gap as they pulled away. “The dragons,” Hanzo gasped, looking down at his hands. A strange unreadable look flicking across his face. “Appear to enjoy the company of the McCree family.”

“I’mma not gonna ask what ‘the Dragons’ mean,” she wiped her hand on her thigh. “But that little trick is mighty impressive. Ain’t seen anything like it.”

“My apologies,” Hanzo bowed slightly, cheeks bright pink.

“So…as I was saying,” she shoved her hands into her pockets, rocking back on her heels. “We got some real trouble, Jess. Deadlock’s been active in the area the last few months. I didn’t think much about it since we ain’t ever messed with’em and don’t have no cash. Then they showed up a couple weeks back, real threatening, big guys with face’s that’ve met a meat grinder.”

Jesse’s heart thundered in his ears, knees feeling weak. Hanzo was suddenly at his side, arm sliding around his waist. _Deadlock,_ the word spun through his head, terror spiking in every cell. It coursed down his left arm like lava, scorching his eye and dripping red through his vision.

They had left his family alone, because he had paid. 

“They’re wantin’ to do drug runs straight through Mama’s land, avoid the check points between here and tha mountain pass up north. I told’em t’fuck off.” she tapped the gun on her hip absently. Details jumped in and out of focus. A strand of blonde hair drifted in the wind. A bead of sweat at his temple, sliding down, down down.

“Jesse?” Hanzo’s voice caressed through his skin, setting his very atoms on fire. He didn’t hear what his companion said to the tall woman, or the worried exchange they shared as he struggled to breathe. The grip of Hanzo’s hand on his hip the only thing keeping him from combusting with rage and terror.

“How long have they been threatening you?” the words ground out between clenched teeth.

“They’re escalating now, two of the south pasture fences have been cut.”

“Do they know we are here?” Hanzo cut in, moonlight glancing off his sharp cheeks.

“They probably do, but they won’t know who you are.” she smirked down at his boss.

Jesse recognized the look in her eye. “No, absolutely not.” He put his arm tightly around Hanzo’s shoulders, tugging him against his side. 

“I want to hear her plan,” Hanzo leaned into him, comfortingly warm against the chill. The dragons stirring. A surge of heat slithering up and down the man’s arm.

Jesse glared at his traitorous adopted sister. 

“Simple,” She hooked her thumbs through her belt. “When they come for Hanzo, we let them take him.”

 

———

 

“You can’t do it,” Jesse huffed, throwing himself down onto the bed. “It’s insane. I won’t let you.”

“It would be a terrible surprise,” Hanzo was trying to calm him down. In that annoyingly serene voice with his annoyingly peaceful expression. “I would not be in any real danger.”

“You could die,” he growled, wanting to shake Hanzo till his teeth rattled. “These are bad men, they are Deadlock.”

“I am aware of their deadly nature.” Hanzo flicked off the light, casting the room into cold blues. It matched the chill in the air. “I would have a tracker and the dragons.”

“Oh, yes, the Dragons,” he rolled his eyes, face down in the pillow. 

“You have seen them kill.”

“Yeah but you gotta do the spell-“

“It’s not a spell.”

“You summon fucking spirit dragons!”

“It is not a spell!”

A pillow smacked into his back, knocking a grunt of surprise loose. “Fuck off!”

“It’s not a spell and I can summon them anywhere, at anytime.” The pillow whoomped into his back and shoulders. “And you can’t tell me what to do!”

“Like hell I can’t!” he hollered back, rolling over to catch the pillow. “I’m fucking tired of getting ordered around like a dog!” 

“Then stop fucking acting like one!” Hanzo yanked the heavy down pillow out of his fingers and swung for the fences at his head.

He rolled to the side, tackling Hanzo back off the bed to the floor in a tangle of comforters and pillows. They landed with a thump, Hanzo beneath him. He was half caught by a blanket sandwiched beneath them, his left arm and leg locked in place. 

“You want me t’stop actin’ like a dog?” he caught Hanzo’s right wrist, pinning it to the floor above his head. A pillow was under Hanzo’s narrow hips, rutting them up. The heat of his groin a searing blaze on the top of his thigh. He ground into his fake lover, free hand falling to that infuriating chest. He groped the hefty meat, digging his fingers in as he explored it. “Want to see how I really am, Hanzo? Trying to push me till I break?” Hanzo’s eyes were pressed closed, mouth screwed up tight. The rise and fall of his chest erratic, just like the heart beat fluttering away in his wrist. 

“You want me t’stop being an obedient dog?” he growled, rucking up his shirt. Greedily exploring each inch of burning flesh to his breast. “You want to really know me, Hanzo fucking Shimada?” He found what he wanted, not surprised by the perky nub of flesh. A dusky pink nipple already hard and flushed. Hanzo’s mouth parted, a whimper breaking through before his teeth smashed together with a click. “You fucking like that? Do you like me dominating you?” he curled forward, pressing his hardness against his boss’s stomach.

Hanzo nodded his head, eyes unreadable, pupils blown wide. “Is this who you really are, Jesse McCree?” Lips tantalizing, the dark hair of his beard begging to be kissed. “Is this who you are when you are free of chains?”

“No!” he growled, startling himself. Hanzo jerked, eyes wide. “Why are you fucking with me, even now?” he threw himself off the man, bruising his knees as he scrambled. “I don't want to be this way but you drive me fucking crazy!”

He was breathing too hard, standing with his back to the yakuza. The floor was cold under his feet, grounding him in the rush. Overwhelmed and aching from exhaustion, the throb behind his eye and around the stump of his arm only growing. He was so tired and it was just too much. He sank onto the edge of the bed, lowering his head into his hands. The metal of his robotic one cold, even through the fake skin. 

The bed dipped, a faint heat radiating against his back. There were no words, just a hot forehead resting against the curve of his shoulder. Soft breathes tickled the hairs on the back of his neck before it was brushed aside. “Hans…” he closed his eyes, a hand rising to cover his neck.

It was pushed away, fingertips sliding over the flesh, mapping the planes. Soothing. Comforting. Dangerous. Hanzo’s nail glided softly over it, drawing out the skull and wings of the tattoo. The mark of who had owned him before the Shimada-gumi. 

“They took your arm and eye, didn’t they?” 

“Yes.”

Hand slide around his 

“Do you… wish to talk about it?”

“Only if ya tell me what it’ll take t’buy my freedom from the Clan.”

Hanzo’s head rested against his back, arms around his waist and for a moment, Jesse swore he felt a kiss on the grinning skull.

“I would require your still beating heart.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 will go up on May 6th!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...

Bending the Arrow C 6

 

“You want me to do what?”

Hanzo glared at him, arms crossed. He was wearing one of Mabel’s hoodies. She was a little closer to his size than Jesse. “ _We_ ,” he stressed the word, raising his gaze to the clear blue skies. Sunshine dancing happily over the prairie, sounds of farm life bustling. “Are going to collect the eggs for breakfast.”

“Why?”

He sighed, putting his face in his hand. “Because someone’s gotta collect the eggs and Mabel’s frying up the bacon and sausage and Ma’s watching the gravy. We gotta get the eggs.”

“Why do you not simply buy eggs?”

“Because… because,” he wanted to scream, “fuck it, we’re doing it. It's our chore. C’mon,” he grabbed Hanzo’s wrist dragging him away from the house.

The chicken coop was just a little east down a gravel drive. The building was squat and from a simpler age. A slanted tin roof would direct water away. Old boards showed the decades, once bright and cheery red paint now a dull crimson. Like dried blood, flaking away at the edges, it housed the McCree flock of chickens.

Most of the rhode island reds were happily scurrying around the house looking for a tasty bug. “Why do they not run away?” Hanzo asked, not trying to take his wrist back.

“They like it here, they got food and water and shelter,” Jesse grinned as a plump hen squawked at him and shuffled away. Her fluffy butt in the air. “and some of the smaller ones, the ones with feathers over their feet?” he pointed on out, an all white beauty with a puffy mass of feathers. “those ones are almost like pets, they’ll let ya hold them and everything.”

“How… wholesome,” Hanzo chuckled, stooping with a hand out. The bantam chicken clucked, shuffling around in the tall grass. “I think they are rather cute.”

Jesse leaned his shoulder against the barn side. The ninja assassin trying to lure over a chicken, clucking and whistling softly. “You’ll have t’have food most likely. Here, try this,” he stooped, leg brushing against the smaller man. The stale granola bar from the depths of his jean jacket was falling apart. He finished the job, dumping the crumbs into Hanzo’s outstretched palm.

Hanzo gave him a very serious nod, rattling the bits of food around before stretching out his hand. The bantam clucked, head tilting to the side. “Come here, little chickadee,” Hanzo shuffled forward in his crouch. “I got something very tasty for you.”

“That's it, just move nice and slow.”

The white bird hopped over, stopping to peck at the grass here and there. The yakuza stayed still, humming softly in encouragement. Jesse just watched, fighting back a desire to laugh. He pulled his phone out on the sly, quickly opening the camera and hitting record. 

A soft chirp of interest, and the bantam was shuffling over. It’s little leg-warmers matching a sassy attitude. “keep your palm flat,” Jesse cautioned, getting a good framing.

Hanzo nodded, a pout of concentration and excitement making him look ten years younger. The rooster finally reached his hand, head cocking from side to side as it inspected the offering. A sharp movement and it was pecking up the crumbs. 

“Jesse, Jesse look!” he turned eagerly, blushing when he saw the camera. “Oh, don’t record me!”

“Can’t resist,” the cowboy grinned, capturing the moment as the chicken pecked away. It got a bit of skin and Hanzo yelped, yanking his had back and spilling the granola into the grass. “priceless!”

“Delete that right now!” Hanzo leapt for him, grabbing for the phone.

“I don’t think so, you’re just too cute,” he stretched up, holding the phone high above his head. His heart gave an uncomfortable twist as Hanzo jumped for it. Their talk from the night before still simmering, steeping like that tea his boss was always trying to get him to drink. It had eased some of the hate always hot under his collarbone. It was almost worse, knowing Hanzo was as trapped and bitter as he was. If only he wasn’t enslaved to the Shimada-gumi, maybe they could try to be something more. 

When he finally paid off the debt for his arm and eye, he would be leaving though. He was needed here, at home to take care of the ranch and his sweet ma. She would take the news of their breakup hard and she wasn’t as young as she used to be. There had been a look of fragility to her in the morning, new lines framing her dark somber eyes. The same weathered russet skin cracking around his as well. He was getting old and living wild tended to treat a man rough.

“Give it to me, this instant!” Hanzo bumped into him, hauling on his bicep.

Jesse resisted, not playing the humble dog today. “Nope, I’m keeping it and showing it to Ma.”

“Don’t, please,” Hanzo was laughing, trying to scale him. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Not here, ya don’t,” his free hand found a lithe hip, sliding under the hoodie. his boss jumped, swatting away his hand. “you’re just Hanzo, just a city slicker who gets excited about chickens and doesn’t wear shirts under his hoodie apparently.”

A wave of red lapped at his cheeks and he tugged his shirt down. “It did not seem appropriate to wear Armani to ‘do the chores’ with you.”

“You can borrow some of Mabel’s t-shirts if you need them,” Jesse offered casually, hand still shoved up in the air.

“I am not going to wear your sisters shirts.”

“Why not? She's got great tastes.”

“Better than yours at least,” the actor crossed his arms, sneering widely. “but shouldn’t we get these ‘eggs’ and return to breakfast? Your mother and sister are doubtlessly waiting for us.”

“Guess you’re right, sug,” Jesse was reluctant to be around his mother again, with Hanzo at least. It seemed all too likely that the yakuza would blurt something thoughtless out and give his ma more hope. He wasn’t destined to get married and settle down. The farm would be sold off when his Ma passed. Mabel was not a rancher at heart and he never seemed able to stay in one place long enough to put down roots.

Jesse led the way into the chicken coop, undoing a latch and ducking his head to head inside. The smell of hay and dust and scat rushing into his nose. Hanzo coughed into his hand, following reluctantly. Amazingly, he didn’t complain as they paused to adjust to the dimmer light. The whole place needed a good mucking out and hose down. And a repaint. The whole ranch was looking worse for wear these days. He needed to get his toolbox out and see what he could get done. Time was limited. Danger was everywhere.

Seemed like a good time to avoid his problems with work.

“Where are the eggs?” 

“Hm?” he looked up, seeing that Hanzo was just standing looking at him. “under the chickens of course.”

Dark brows furrowed, inspecting the cubes where nesting chickens sat. “But… how?”

“Just reach in there and get them. Watch out for poop though, sometimes it sticks on the way out.”

“What?” he shuffled back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I refuse.”

“C'mon, Hanners,” Jesse grinned, walking right up to the nesting boxes. A few of the hens clucked and hopped out. They shuffled off, not caring about their freshly laid eggs. “hold out your shirt, like a basket.”

Hanzo did as requested. “Is this, the life you were used to?”

“Yup,” Jesse dropped several eggs into the hoodie.

“It is… nice.”

“Really?” 

“Yes. I… find myself enjoying it.”

“Hmm,” Jesse shooed a hen off the nest and collected the rest of the eggs. A few of the hens had to be shooed off them and get got pecked a few times. Nothing serious. “Just remember that when we get t’work after breakfast.”

“Planning on how to take out Deadlock?”

“Nope,” Jesse ushered him out of the chicken coop, a hand on the small of the man’s back. 

 

—

 

“Look, look how chubby he was as a kid!” Mama McCree laughed, eagerly pushing the photo album over. It nudged Hanzo’s empty plate out of the way. To his credit, Hanzo had packed away everything put in front of him without complaint. Even complimenting his mama’s and Mabel’s cooking.

“Do ya have t’show him those?” Jesse groaned, leaning across the table to try to snatch it. Hanzo whipped it away out of reach.

“But you were such an adorable child,” the yakuza boss chuckled, “look how red and round your cheeks were.”

“I just hadn't grown into myself yet,” Jesse crossed his arms, pouting as his family teamed up on him. 

“Here, here are the best ones,” Mabel flipped through the album to his horrible emo phase. Hair dyed black, fake piercings up his right ear and a sullen expression. 

Something sparked across Hanzo’s face, so fast it barely registered. Lust. “Got the real piercing not too long after that, and others.”

“Don’t forget how you lugged your guitar with you practically everywhere, always looking for someone to listen to you practice.”

“It’s called busking, Ma,” Mabel laughed, slinging her arm over Hanzo’s shoulders. “Jesse’s always been bad with money.”

“We can’t all be upstanding civil servants,” he huffed, throwing himself back in his chair. 

Mama raised her hand, cutting off their sibling squabble before it could get going. “What about you, Han-so? What were you like as a child?”

“I am afraid I have lead a rather boring life until recently,” the assassin folded his hands on the table primly, “I was a scholarly child, spending most of my days indoors reading. It is only as an adult that I’ve had freedom to travel and pursue my own adventures.”

“It sounds like a rather lonely way to grow up,” Mama lightly patted his shoulder. Hanzo’s eyes widened, darting to Jesse. “I am glad you have someone special now.”

He met the gaze with a hard one of his own. _Don’t fucking dare, don’t raise her hopes,_ he tried to send his thoughts across the table.

“Jesse is very special to me,” Hanzo’s hand slide across the table, resting over his own. Jesse glared at him. “He has been a much better friend than I deserve, these last months especially. I could not ask for a better companion. I wish we didn’t have to return to Japan so soon.”

“I wish… you could both stay,” mama McCree wiped her wipes with a hanky, giving them an apologetic smile. “Just an old woman being selfish. You boys have your own lives to get back to, what with being a movie star.”

“What exactly do you do, over there Jesse?” Mabel asked lightly, rolling an unlit cigarette from one corner of her mouth to the other.

“I’m a bodyguard, essentially.”

“Is that how you met?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Jesse and Hanzo shared a look, both hesitating. Hanzo eventually picked up the conversation. “Technically, we met at a… how do you say… bad bar?”

“Dive bar.”

“Ah, yes I was researching a role and got myself into a bit of trouble,” the yakuza boss sipped delicately at his cup of coffee. “Jesse was kind enough to step in and protect me. From there, I knew I just had to have him.”

“You scoundrel,” Mabel laughed, as good an actor as the killer next to her, “So falling for your boss after all, classic dip-shit Jesse.”

“Mabel! Language.” Mama tutted, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “At least at the table, we should try to be civilized.” 

“I agree, Mama McCree,” Hanzo raised his coffee cup to her and they shared a look of understanding. 

“Ugh, well ya’ll enjoy being fancy, I’m gonna ride out and check the east pasture herd. “jimmy and the boys are inspecting the west lot, heading off an ear mite infestation. I’ll be back by lunch.” She leaned down to kiss their ma’s cheek. “make sure you take it easy.”

“We'll take care of her,” Hanzo nodded, resting back in his chair. “Though I believe Jesse already had plans for our morning?”

“Ew,” she pulled a face, quickly straightening and heading out of the kitchen.

“Not that,” Jesse groaned, dragging his hand over his face. “Ma, my tools still in the shed?”

“They are in the hall closet, Mabel has been doing some repairs around the house.”

“Got a list of things still needing fixin’?”

“I do not want you to use your vacation for working,” she patted both of their shoulders.

Jesse’s heart was knotted up, wishing more than anything he could stay here. Even if his presence would probably stir Deadlock up even more. He might have bought his freedom but a gang never plays fair. _What if the Shimada’s never let me leave?_ He bit his lip, pushing away the intrusive thought. Hanzo would let him go when his debt was paid. He just had a few more months of servitude.

“We are happy to help, Jesse has often bragged how good he is with his hands,” Hanzo smirked across the table, face shifting as he sense something was wrong.

“I’ll make the repairs, Ma, just write them down for me, alright?”

“If you are really sure,” she rested back in her chair, dark hair falling in her face. “I will make you a list.”

 

——

 

It was late afternoon, the sun fat and gold. The light softened the endless waves of prairie grass. Wind made it undulate like ocean waves, endlessly questing as far as the eye could see. It blew away the harsh smells of animals and tractor exhaust, leaving something sweeter in its place.

Sweat rolled down his back, sticking the white cotton shirt to his skin. A bead trickled passed his eye, forcing him to wipe it with his shoulder. The hammer in one hand, nails in the other as heput up a new board for siding. The old one had blown off in a storm last season. Leaves and debris and what looked like the start of some kind of nest had been inside. It would also leak, dripping down into the mostly unused sitting room.

“Pass me up another nail,” Jesse put the one in his hand between his lips, hoisting the board up. The old wooden siding really needed to be upgraded. They had all kinds of new fangled energy efficient ones these days. If only he had the money to set his ma up right. Maybe once he was back to bounty hunting, he could spend some his earnings getting this place whipped back into shape.

“We are being watched,” Hanzo hummed softly, offering several nails.

“Mmmhmm,” he shuffled the board, getting it in place. “hold this for me.”

Hanzo stepped up the ladder behind him. A hand knotted in the back of his pants, using his thick leather belt to brace himself. He pinned the board up with one hand. “It is not the normal kind of watching, Jesse. I believe Deadlock has set up a sentry.”

“I know, in the tree down by the creek? It's an old hunting stand. Fallin’ apart but gives a good vantage over the farm.”

“Do you think they will make their move soon?”

“Not during the day, not while we’re together at least. They’ll try t’snag you when you’re alone.”

“Why don’t you think they will take Mabel? She is alone in the pasture, far from help.”

Jesse paused, nail held in place, hammer drawn back. “I… just don’t think of her as prime kidnapping material.”

“Why not?” Hanzo leaned into him, resting his head on the curve of his back. “She is a woman after all.”

Jesse laughed, pounding the nail in with three fast hard strokes. “That might be true, but she’s got as rough a reputation around here as I do. They’ll go after the city slicker for sure. My lover would be the perfect leverage to get me on their side. Then Mabel and Mama would crumble and trade for our lives.”

“Hmm, I worry for her still.”

“What do you care?” he drove in a second nail. A sharp intake of breath made him still. “Heh, sorry Hanzo.”

“No, no you are right to question it. I have spent so long… pretending desperately to not care about anything but the mission, about what the Clan wants. You are right to be suspicious of my true intents.”

Jesse turned the words over in his head, driving in the rest of the nails. Hanzo didn’t get down from the ladder, resting his face against him. “So,” he dusted his hands on his chest, “what were your true intents this morning?”

“I do not know what you mean,” arms stiffened around him, “my intentions were to get eggs.”

“That's not what I mean and you know it.”

“I was cold,” a huff of breath let him know Hanzo was pouting. “this house is full of holes.”

“Hmm,” Jesse leaned forward, hands braced on the top of the ladder. It forced his ass out, bumping against a finely muscled chest. “Just cold, huh?”

“Yes.”

“You were holding onto me mighty tight, if you're just cold.” 

“I…fine,” the killer head butted him on the lower back, head dug into the little bit of soft flesh. The lilt of his voice hesitant, deepening with a rawness he hadn't heard before. “I dreamed of the clan.”

“That’s not too weird, right?” he stopped his teasing, letting Hanzo have the space he needed.

“I had failed them.”

“Oh,” a pain shot through his heart, fear coiling in his gut. “what… did they do to you, Hanzo?”

A long silence stretched between them, just the rustling of grass and light birdsong. The wind carried it to them.

“They took my legs, from just below the knee,” a shudder rocked through both of them. “They sawed them off. All I could see was darkness. I heard my mother’s voice scream for them to stop but they silenced her too.”

“That’s… horrible,” Jesse clenched his jaw, fighting down a primal rush of fear. He had lived part of that nightmare. 

“I still remember her voice…”

“She passed away when you were twelve right?”

“Yes, cancer.” Arms tightened around his middle, nearly crushing the air out of him. “She was so frail, at the end.”

Jesse pressed his eyes closed, afraid to look at Hanzo. The ache calling to him, a wound that needed to be soothed and tended to with love. Not buried and ignored. Hanzo had never spoken of it, except that he had no parents left. Fewer people to be kidnapped and used against him. 

Hanzo started down the ladder, breaking contact. Jesse followed closely, seeing the walls coming up already. “Hanzo,” he reached out, catching him by the hand. It was cold, standing in the shadow of the house. He laced their fingers together, for who ever was watching them, not because he wanted to comfort his boss.

Despite everything he had done, there was still a need to protect. He was a fucking moron. “I’m sorry, Darlin’,” Hanzo wasn’t looking at him, face serene. “It must have been hard, seeing her sick so young.”

“I should not pity myself so much,” the smaller man tugged at their joined hand, trying to free himself. “It is in the past.”

“Don’t mean you can’t talk about it, feel it, ya know?”

“What good would it do?” 

“Sometimes, just crying it out can do some healing by itself.”

“Foolish,” the assassin shook his head but his eyes were cloudy. “we should move on to the next task for your mother.”

Hanzo slipped away, picking up the tool box. His shoulders were too straight. 

Something clicked, flooding Jesse’s stomach with a confusing mix of understanding and remorse. 

_He just wants a mother._

 

_——_

 

Blood cut rivers in the layer of dirt. Dropping to the ground in thick plops, it stained the tired floorboards. Cold winds rattled the trees around the house, tapping against windows. It was quiet in the room.

“Holy fuck,” Jesse was the first to react, dropping the handful of cards and springing off the bed. Hanzo hot on his heels. “What happened, Mabel?”

She raised a hand, shoulders slumping. “let me sit down.”

Hanzo looped her arm over his shoulders, helping her to the rocking chair in the corner. The bitter reek of blood and bile was strong, mixing with sweat and dirt. She creaked more than the chair as the big woman settled.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Jesse bit his lip, rage clawing at his insides. He knew what had happened. The kit was under the sink, still there from his days spent getting into fights and coming home busted. He had snuck in just like Mabel had.

The soft murmur of voices in the bedroom comforted him. Mabel wasn’t really injured if she could still run that mouth of hers. Hanzo was good in a crisis, that much had always been true. He checked the expiration dates on the painkillers and antiseptic wipes. Everything looked fine, clicking the box closed and returning to his sister.

Her nose was badly broken, dark circles already blooming around her eyes. The blood was still running, dripping from her chin. It was stark against her tanned chest. Her shirt was ripped open to her waist. A black sports bra revealed. A shallow cut ran the length of her hand under her collarbone.

“They didn’t do nothing,” her words rang in his skull, “not like that at least. Shirt tore when I got bucked into a hedge tree.” She winced as Hanzo delicately peeled the shirt away from the cut. Her eyes lowered to the floor. “They killed Merrabelle.”

“Who is Merrabelle?” Hanzo’s words came through gritted teeth. A muscle jumped erratically in his cheek.

“Her horse,” the mercenary took a shaky breath, stomping down a blind rage. “She raised her from birth.” He sank to his haunches next to her. The first aid kit went into her lap.

She just nodded, tears bubbling out. “There’s at least two dozen of them hiding out in the dry creek bed past Hollow’s Oak,” she tilted her face up, knowing what Jesse had to do. He still gave her an apologetic smile as he started cleaning her up. “Heavily armed, assault rifles, explosives, looked like they were setting up a ratlin gun on the top of a hummer.”

It all made sense to Jesse, in line with the gangs old tactics. They would roll up to the house soon, a show of force meant to cow them into submission. “there will be at least that many more blocking the road out of the ranch. That’ll block police assistance.”

“Should we strike before they can gather their forces?” Hanzo’s knuckles were white, holding the arm of the rocking chair. It creaked.

“We won’t make it passed the scouts,” Mabel yelped as Jesse hit a rough spot.

“We are not your typical gangsters,” hanzo scoffed, eyes meeting his with a clash. An honest rage, searing and deadly. “we will cull them like cattle and leave them to rot in the sun as a warning.”

Jesse leaned back, wiping his hands on his jeans. There were too many what ifs, too many variables. He would give anything for a team of scouts and killers, just wipe them all out at once. There was little chance of that so far out. Even if he made calls to his contacts, Widowmaker could watch their backs and take care of flankers, Reaper would warp into the heart of their operation with his deadly shotguns, time was their biggest enemy.

If he didn’t take care of the threat right now, his mama and Mabel would be vulnerable. Even Mabel couldn’t fight off the entire Deadlock Gang. _The shimada clan could protect them,_ the thought weaseled in unbidden. How many years of his life would it cost to buy protection for the people he loved? For them to not have to every worry about enemies showing up on their doorstep. His ma could live out the rest of her life in peace and dignity, enjoying the peace she deserved after all these years.

Could they really wipe out the Deadlock Gang together? The terror of the Shimada DragonsTM might just be enough to keep the superstitious desert wranglers away from his family. Even if the Clan wasn’t protecting them.

No one walked away from seeing the spirit dragons unshaken.

“How did you get away, Mabel?” Hanzo asked quietly, his voice straining with the effort to keep his anger under control. It brought Jesse back to the present, there was time to plan later. They had something more pressing to take care of.

“And where are the bodies?”

 

—

 

Clouds cast the prairie in velvet night. A lonesome wind billowing the grass in languid waves. A sharp scent riding it over the hills of the north pasture, mixing with earth and dung and crushed grasses.

Death a bitter undertone.

It drifted to the two killers, a scene of carnage spread out before them. Bodies littered over the valley. Faces twisted in silent screams were pale in the faint light. A managed corpse of a once beautiful horse in the middle of them. 

The mare’s head was cut off, half a dozen feet away from her body. Her limbs were missing too. They didn’t talk, working side by side to pull the terrible nightmare into a pile of gore. It was not the first time they had cleaned a scene. 

Darkness coiled around his heart, choking more than the reek of blood and shit. This was his life now, it had been his life for so many years. Toil and hardship and death. Lives snuffed out by his hand. Some of them had deserved it and some he didn’t know why he had been forced to kill.

He wondered how many Hanzo had murdered in cold blood. 

The fire blazed high, licking at the sky hungrily. They sat on the side of the hill, far enough back that the light didn’t touch them. Oily black smoke disappearing with the proof of the shootout.

“I despise this,” Hanzo’s voice was ragged, head falling into his hands. Jesse’s heart lurched, so much pain dripping into the words it was a like physical weight. 

They had done this countless times. It had never occurred to him that Hanzo might have hated it as much as he did.

Jesse fumbled for a cigarette, lighting it up and taking a deep shaky drag. He really didn’t know Hanzo at all. “Then why do ya do it?” the pack of cigarettes was plucked from his hand, Hanzo pulling out his own. The silvery light glanced along sharp cheekbones as the smaller man leaned in. Eyelashes waves of ebony over his pale skin. 

The flare of scarlet at the tip of white bone cast gold over the actor’s face. Lighting his cigarette against Jesse’s own. His eyes drifted over the cut of a regal nose, so close he could see the feathery lines starting around the corners of his eyes. 

“You're staring.” Amusement at their old exchange fighting with pain. Shoulders hunched against the cold.

“I’m not,” he managed a smile, not looking away.

“You always tease me.”

“What?” Jesse blinked, smoke billowing from his nose.

“Hmm,” a low hum met his question and Hanzo eased back. Their shoulders brushed, a comforting heat. “What will you do, when your debt has been repaid?” they both looked out across the prairie, at the pillar of cleansing fire that was beginning to fade.

It wasn’t an innocent question, the tension in the smaller man’s body clear. Layers of meaning and intent wrapped up in a simple phrase. “I don’t know. I want t’come home. Maybe help with the ranch. Maybe disappear forever.” Smoke churned in his lungs, “What will you do?”

Hanzo twitched, knees drawing up to his chest. He rested his chin on them. The wind tossed his hair. It was so pretty down, bobbing around his jaw. They shared the silence, seeking comfort in their vices. 

A low voice was snatched away on a breeze, Hanzo’s face pressed into his drawn up knees. Cigarette burning in one hand.

“Didn’t hear that, partner,” he leaned closer, daring to put an arm around his companion. It was chilly and his serape was warm. 

“I said,” the actor tilted his face to the side, just enough to reveal one dark eye. “I will miss you.”

Hope flared in his chest, a jarring counterpoint to the reality around them. “Really? You’re not messing with me are ya?” he didn’t dare believe it could be true. 

“Why would I lie about this?”

“You do like making me squirm.”

“Are you saying you will not miss my company?” Hurt flashed across Hanzo’s face and he shrugged Jesse’s arm off. He started to stand with a huff.

“Now, Sug,” his paw fisted in Hanzo’s shirt, dragging him down hard. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare act all hurt.” A sullen face looked up at him, doubtlessly a cutting remark about to burst out. He put a finger to the smaller man’s lips. “You’ve ordered me around and kept me as your lap dog for a year. You’ve enjoyed every excuse to make me stay at your side and go into hell together or go get your dry cleaning. I thought I had you all figured out but this,” he paused, watching Hanzo’s face flicker through emotions too fast to follow. “but now… “ 

Hanzo’s soft lips parted, drawing his gaze. “But now…?” 

“I don’t know,” anger dying slowly in his chest, simmer into a confusing mess. “You offering to go into the lion’s den for my family… and being… open. It’s got me all twisted around. I don’t want to think about what will happen next.” He stubbed the cigarette out, tucking the butt into his pocket. 

“I will be kidnapped and you will come to save me.” Hanzo shifted, their bodies melding from shoulder to ankle. “And I will release the dragons on them.”

“But why?” the words burst out unbidden, straight from the tangle around his heart. “why do this for me? Why risk your life for me and my family?”

He never got to hear the answer. Pain burst through his shoulder, a scream clawed at the sky. Hanzo was on his feet, gun cracking white with every shot. The world swam, bleeding around him. “Hanzo…” his tongue was sluggish, eyes beginning to close. A tranquilizer dart sticking out of his shoulder. “…Run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update May 13


	7. Chapter 7

Reality splintered around him, shards coming into focus only to scatter away. Crushed grass sharp in his nose, dew wet on his face. The sky was endless above him and then darkness again. The drug coursed through his system, overwhelming the terror and rage. Nothingness. and then something, the rumble of an engine and hard plastic under his shoulder. It cracked, pain like lightning blinding him.

Diesel. Rough laughter. A scream.

He lurched up, flailing at nothing. He was out before he hit the floor of the suv speeding through the prairie. Pain and darkness, something metallic on his tongue, rolling back and down his throat. He coughed, splattering it on his lips and cheeks but more flooded in. Thunder crashed in his head, turning his mouth to the side just in time to vomit on the floor. He was choked by the blood, hacking it up just to stay alive.

Doors banged somewhere. Hands bruised his arms. He stumbled out of reality. 

Harsh voices, cutting taunts and a blow to his head.

The tranquilizer beginning to wear off, how much later he didn’t know. 

“H-hans…” fire scorched his throat, the grittiness of dehydration thick in his mouth. Sweat trickled down his back. He realized with a start he wasn’t wearing a shirt anymore. The lids of his eyes stuck together and a moment of panic spiked through him.

Adrenaline giving him the strength to raise his head, eyes cracking open. The room was dim, a beam of light holding thousands of specs of dust but it was far away. He spit, watching the scant liquid bubble before it was absorbed by the dirt. He knew this place. 

He didn’t have to look down to know what awaited him. He was stripped to his boxer briefs and a thick iron collar setting heavy on his neck. The chain wound from the front to the floor and snaked off into the middle of the room. There was barely enough slack for him to sit where he was, back pressed into the corner. 

A bowl of water and something barely edible sat in the middle of the dirt room. Chairs lined the far edges, going up into crude stadium seating. 

He pushed himself forward, trying to stand but something was wrong. He fell face first into the sandy earth. Pain lanced up his left arm, searing and cruel as a thousand needles tearing into his flesh.

“No… Please god no.”

They had taken his arm.

 

—

 

Hours passed in a muddy stream. 

He worried the collar around his neck, searching for a weak spot. There was none. If only he had his robotic hand, he could have torn through it like tissue paper. The heavy iron was rusted, the orange dust mixing with his sweat and dripping down his chest. He remembered this room, had sat in those chairs and watched the entertainment. It had excited him then, in those dark days before he found a better way.

It had ended up costing him his arm and eye but until now, it had felt like a slight price to pay. There was no sign of Hanzo. Had he gotten away after all? The thought was too good to be true, the odds were against them.

“Good to see you are awake,” a dark voice rumbled from the doorway. “Thought the tranquilizer might have killed you.”

Jesse didn’t lift his eyes from the dirt, teeth clenched till his jaw ached. He knew this part too. He had seen it all unfold countless times.

“Not feeling talkative?” footsteps and the creak of leather approached him. “Your little friend has already been singing like a bird.”

Schooling his face, the mercenary raised a bland face to the man. It wasn’t the old leader of the Deadlocks or any of the commanders and lieutenants that he remembered. It had been over a decade since he had run through these halls and raised hell over the state. 

“Now I figure,” a motorcycle boot landed right next to his hand. He didn’t flinch away. “He’s got to be somebody mighty special, what with that tattoo. My associate says it’s a Ya-Ku-Za marking. But he ain’t know what clan or how high up. Whatcha know about that now, Joel Marricone is it?”

“Ain’t gone by that name in a long time,” He shrugged, heart pounding like a racehorse kicking in his chest. Hanzo was here and alive. But for how long? 

“It’s Jesse McCree these days,” the boot settled over his hand. Pain splintered through his knuckles but he didn’t blink. “Little ranch with a sweet old Ma and a dyke sister that are in my way.”

Rage crashed in waves over him, ever ounce of his will required to keep from lunging at the man. “I don’t reckon I know you, mister,” the words ground out between aching teeth.

“Course ya don’t, you’ve been hiding out of the game for a long time now.” the boot left his hand as the man pulled out a cigar. He clipped the end off with a decisive click. The rich smell drifted down moments later, bits of burning ash falling into his face.

The nicotine itch started up instantly, a craving from deep in his bones. He tried to ignore it. “I bought my freedom from Deadlock, fair and square.” he raised the stump of his arm as proof.

“You might have bought it from old Jack McCalloway,” a long drag, cherry red end of the cigar bobbing. “but the price has gone up, seeing as your family is just determined to be a thorn in my side.”

“What do you want?”

“Nothing much,” cold eyes crinkled at the corners, blond hair shimmering in the light of the cigar. “Just some entertainment and some information bout your pretty friend.”

Ice spiked in his stomach, gouging him open and spilling him out. He couldn’t give Hanzo up. Not so soon. If they knew who they had, if they realized they had grabbed the crown prince of the Shimada-gumi from a lonesome little ranch in the middle of nowhere… there was no telling what they might do to extort money and power from him.

_where are the dragons?_ he chewed his lip, watching the new leader of Deadlock rock back on his heels. _Hanzo where are you?_

“you should answer when I speak to you, boy,” the cigar came down on his shoulder, red hot tip searing through his skin. 

A strangled cry clogged his throat, choked down as a hate hotter than the burn flared to life. An old familiar feeling, coiling around his heart in a cascade of fire. “I will watch the life drain from your eyes.” He rose to his full height, eye to eye with his captor. “and spit on your corpse.”

Dark smokey laughter rumbled in the empty room. “Still as stupid as ever. We’ll see how much of that fire you have left by the end of the night.

 

—

 

The roughly constructed stadium was packed, every chair filled and people crowded around the far edges of the room on the floor. He had pulled a big crowd. The infamous Jesse McCree back from the dead, chained up like a dog. The collar cut into his neck, chain coiled up on arm as he prowled around the room. Cheers landed on his head, a bloodlust stirring the crowd into a frenzy.

He knew what came next. Had seen it dozens of times. If he had been in the stands, he would have already been placing his bets. The odds were against him. He had only one arm and drugs still in his system. Stripped down to his underwear, humiliated and degraded by sweat and blood and spit hurled at him from laughing mouths. 

The mix of dirt and sand was cool under his bare feet, dangerous traction for a fight. As he made his way around the room, he played up his imbalance. Teetering for a moment before walking on, playing up hunched shoulders and lowered head. the chain dragging behind him in the sand, dejected and scared.

A roar from the onlookers marked the arrival of his opponent. A deadlock gang member not many years his junior. Scruffy beard and dingy brown hair hadn’t been washed in weeks. A heavily studded leather jacket promised pain. Thick boots with a steel toe could make a kick fatal. He smacked a baseball bat into his hand, the end covered in nails and bits of rusted chain.

The booming crackle of static brought a hush to the room. The announcer’s voice rumbling as he introduced the new comer. A young buck, ready for his initiation into the Deadlock gang. All he had to do was kill Jesse McCree. A simple enough ritual, one that hadn’t changed.

_Hanzo, where are you?_ he shifted to the side, sizing up his opponent, looking for weak spots. they fell into a slow type of dance, circling each other as the crowd roared. He had to get out of here and find his boss. Something had gone wrong. The dragons had not been summoned. 

_maybe he’s already escaped._ the thought hit him in the chest like a brick. The swing of the baseball bat almost followed it up. He sprang back, arms thrown up to catch a blow. He staggered, overbalanced by the missing weight of his arm. Another swing chased him back. He scrambled in the sand, sliding around and darting to the side. 

The bat collided with the dirt right behind him. He combat rolled away, stretching out to fling himself out of range. He swept his leg to the side, chain hissing after him. He wound it around his remaining arm. The outlaw was on him again, bat swinging too wide. The opening was there but he hesitated, dancing back out of reach. Sweat poured down his back, dust and dirt sticking to it.

Roaring from the crowd was static in his head, almost calming in the way it churned. Blood and fire in his mind, the old life calling to him. With Hanzo, it had always been removed. Sniping from a distance, bow and arrows, medium range shoots but nothing hand to hand. He lunged forward, whipping the chain out of the sand. It hissed through the air, striking right at the knee of his attacker. 

the man screamed, tripping over the whirling chain. Jesse pushed the advantage, lunging in. The chain wrapped around the man’s throat and he yanked up, pulling the man off his feet. The crowd surged, echoing like thunder. The struggling slowed, then stopped. Jesse dropped him to the sand, lifeless.

He turned to face the crowd, eyes searing like coals. The leader met his eyes, sitting in the middle of the crowd on a slightly raised platform. Deadeye burned inside his skull, agony and pleasure twisting together. Every breath flooded with the need to survive, to fight, to find Hanzo and kill every single one of the outlaws that threatened his family. 

The announcer brought the room to a sudden hush. Low moans from the half dead man suddenly loud. It was ignored.

“McCree is the winner of Round One,” a restless cry from the audience, “Place your bets for Round Two. McCree vs the Hammer.”

He squared his shoulders, chain heavy on his arm and faced the entrance. Whatever came through the door, he would destroy it. It was that or die, here alone in the dirt.

 

—

 

The darkness was a relief. Everything hurt, his head most of all. His left eye wasn’t working, the mechanical orb momentarily overloaded. He had resorted to deadeye to make it out of the last fight, even without peacekeeper. It had helped land killing blows against the three outlaws that had crowded around him.

It sat like a burning coal in his socket, agony dripping down his throat. The only option was to endure and wait for a chance to escape. He rested his head back against the cold cement wall. The collar chaffing a red band around his throat. _good thing i got a tetanus booster shot last year._

Right when he had met Hanzo. His eyes drifted closed, focusing on anything but the pain. He had been rough, maybe rougher than he’d ever been. Dirty and soaked in whiskey to his socks, looking for a fight and more than willing to end any that showed up on his door. The last of his coin being poured in front of him.

He had only had a crude prosthetic, functioning enough to hold a glass but not more. His vision blurred not only from drink. His eye was much the same quality, all the money he made from killing and stalking and trading in intelligence went back to his Ma. 

A mysterious stranger eased on to the stool next to him, too beautiful for words. A fallen angel with a mouth made for sinning. They had passed the night sharing drinks and flirting in a harmless back and forth. Jesse hadn’t showered in days, didn’t have a room for the night and was currently planning on sleeping out behind the dumpster.

He hadn’t missed the double guns tucked under each arm or the way those sharp eyes cut across the bar. He was there to hunt but not for cock. Too bad. “Need any backup, partner?” Jesse drawled, sliding a hand along that cut as fuck shoulder and down his arm.

“Unhand me or die like a dog.” 

Jesse wolf whistled, grinning from ear to ear.

Everything had happened so fast after that, the group of men smoking and playing pool turning on them. It had been a blazing fight, laughter and blood and too much drink blending.

He had made a move, grabbing the smirking man by the hips and shoving him into the nearest wall. Hot wet breathes, clawing hands. teeth sinking into his shoulder. HIs hips rutting into the killer and claiming that mouth with a starved need.

Some small, desperate part of himself still hoped that there might have been a kiss returned in the heat of the moment.

He had been dragged away a moment later, thrown across the bar by a new threat and cracked his head. Vision swimming and bad eye short circuiting. It didn’t explain what happened next. A fierce yell in Japanese and then the skies split open with a roar that rattled his bones… and two blue noodle cat things flopped onto he floor in front of the new assassins. 

He remembered laughing, scooping up one drunken cat thing in the crook of his arm and putting a bullet in each of the assassin’s brains. Things had seemed to work out so perfectly from there, Hanzo taking him in, getting him cleaned up and sober. All his troubles melted away. new papers and new prosthetics that were state of the art, even better than that. No one else in the world had the resources the Shimada clan did, tech companies under their control. 

It had all been too good to be true. 

Those first precious weeks of camaraderie and destruction brought sharply to an end by the Elders. It was time to pay his debt and the terms had been high.

 

—

 

Cold water brought him gasping back to consciousness. He swung instinctively, hitting empty air. He blinked the water out of his eyes. It was full of blood from a gash on his head and dirt caked in his hair.

“Ready to tell us what ya know about the Jap?”

A growl rumbled in his throat, teeth bared at the slur. “You ready t’die?”

A sharp blow cracked into his head, stars bursting over his vision. “Are you?” a steel capped boot dragged back, ready to strike again. “Who is he? What clan does he belong too?”

Jesse spit a glob of blood and laughed in the man’s face.

 

—

 

Time melted together. Hunger and thirst living things inside him, clawing to get out. The outlaws kept him alive, weakening his resolve with constant need. He let them believe that he was close to breaking, not sure how long he had been here. But as long as they kept asking about Hanzo’s identity, the man was alive.

Somewhere, Hanzo was fighting for his life as well. 

 

—

 

Sand stirred with each shallow gust of breath. Blood and sweat congealed around his mouth and nose. “You’re proving as tough as your reputation.” The outlaw henchman crouched beside him, wiping his hand on his jeans. A six shooter gleamed on his hip.

“I ain’t selling him out.”

“We know he’s someone important.”

Jesse shrugged, not getting up from the dirt. His good arm tucked under his chest, the chain digging into his breast. “I wouldn’t know… he just paid me t’keep him safe. guess i’m fired.”

“I don’t think he’ll live long enough to fire you.”

Dread coiled in his gut, fanning flames of rage. “What do ya mean?” he spit the words, every muscle tensing. He forced them to relax, to tamp down the anger, look passive… look weak.

“Well, I hear the Captain Buck is done playing games. Gonna start chopping off limbs. Looks like you know how that goes.” His stump was nudged. “Doubt he’ll survive the shock, ain’t got enough meat on his bones, especially not after being starved.” the scraggy man leaned down, sneering wide. It cracked the dirt around his mouth. “Pity. He is much prettier than you, would have been fun to keep around if the Captain turned him loose.”

“Don’t you fucking touch him!” Jesse roared, bellowing like a bull. Powerful muscles screamed with unknown strength as he sprang his own trap. Sand and dirt sprayed across the arena as the carefully buried chain whipped up. He danced with it, a living thing bound to him. He whipped it with every ounce of his remaining strength for the outlaw’s head. He went down, rolling away from the blow. The gun came up, a flash of silver. He snapped the chain, cracking it like a whip over the gun. It went off, banging around the room like lightning. 

he tackled the outlaw, his hand knotting in greasy hair. Nails cut his arm, fists thudding into his ribs. A scream rolled out as he dragged the head high and slammed it into the dirt and sand. Again. and Again, rage blinding and all consuming. Blood spurting in thick streams.

When he finally stopped, he was heaving. sweat dripping from his nose, a distant clamor beating with the thunder of his heart. 

There was no time, the shot had been heard. 

He flipped the out law, checking the pockets for a key to the collar on his neck. There was a keyring but none for the small lock. No luck. “Fuck it.” the base was already alerted. He had to get out of here. The gun felt steady in his hand. Lighter than Peacekeeper, he backed away from the chain, lined up the shot, and fired. 

The chain snapped, hissing from the force. He wrapped the rusty metal around his neck. The blare of a alarm rang though the compound. He ran across the bloody sand, body straining with every step.

the doors banged open, crashing into the building and open sky reared above him. There was a jeep parked to the side. He had the outlaws keys in his hand.

Deep breathes dragged fresh air into his starved lungs.Freedom stretching out to the horizon under heavy black clouds.

He turned his back on it, eyes cutting across the compound. 

_Hanzo, where are you, baby?_

 

—

 

The air burned his lungs, great heaving breathe sucking it in deep. Death and destruction in his wake. He had grabbed three more handguns, and weathered clothes. A bullet proof chest plate taking some of the heat off him. It had already saved his life once.

Shots rang, bullets ricocheting down the hall behind him. His ears were ringing, heart beat so loud it was sure to give his position away. Counting shots, he waited till the reload. Popping above the metal crate, he put down three with a fan of the hammer.

He ducked down before another volley of ammunition came his way. “You tell me where the Yakuza is and i might let you live.” he bellowed, reloading the six shooter.

A raucous fight broke out on the other end of the hall, voices clamoring for dominance. He rolled out from shelter, rushing them. a jump boosted him over the supply crate and into their middle. close combat was not Deadlock’s strong suit and a quick lashing blows had them scattered on the floor. All but one knocked out. He put his boot on the man’s neck, crushing the windpipe. “Where is he?”

“C-captain’s quarters, that way,” he pointed, breaking down to beg in Spanish. Jesse ignored the cries, giving the mercy of a headshot before moving on.

 

—

 

The storm raged outside, drowning the prairie in torrential rains. Wind beating against the captain’s building, making it creak and groan. It was mirrored by the dead and dying littered in the hall leading to the man’s personal quarters. He could feel Hanzo through the door.

A radiating energy, throbbing against him in urgent waves. It was comforting, and stirring in a way he didn’t have time for. The presence called to him, a blue snare around his heart. It tightened the closer he got, a strangling cry.

“Open the door,” he roared, pounding on it with the hilt of a bloody gun. 

The noise reverberated down the hall. There was no response. He slammed a shoulder into it, testing the metal. It was solid, reinforced for security. A growl gushed from between his teeth, prowling back and forth restlessly. Hanzo was in there. Just out of reach.

Fingers scrambling along the wall, searching for something. A growl of frustration broke through him. An idea nudged into his mind, something pushing through his spirit. heat built in his gut, keeping away the chill of shock and trauma. Urging him forward, stroking the primal need to find his mate. To find and take him, to save him from this hell.

Sparks danced over his skin, arcing to the door. He jumped, recognizing it with a grimace. It coiled up and down his flesh arm, surging over the skin. Wisps of fire rolled off his skin, billowing in the wind. He knew what he had to do, what awaited him beyond the door.

Spears of pain shot through his skull, reverberating off his teeth and scattering down his bones. Deadeye struggled, fighting to life. It didn’t have enough power, flickering and surging as it churned. The world slowed around him, gilded in fire and darkness. The magic of his eye swirling with his heartbeat, somewhere, a tumbleweed danced down the hall. A wind rising, primitive roar guttering in his chest.

The gun rose slowly, vision in his left eye flickering in and out. There wasn’t enough power for Deadeye but he forced it, straining against lightning bolts. Skulls flickered and went out. He snarled, every fiber tensing. The magic was demanding, the robotics clicking and whirling.

He had one chance.

The gun fired six times as he fanned the hammer. Each shot dead on the door handle, right where the keyhole taunted him. Smoke curled from the new hole, sizzling metal dripping from the blast.

Darkness swirled around him, bringing him to his knees. Wet coughs rattled his chest, agony blooming in the ruined remains of his left eye. Robotic mechanics sparking and writhing, sizzling from the strain. The amber iris implant burning out. A sharp glowing red cast demented light over his face.

Trembling held his limbs, body trying to go into shock. 

“Hanzo?” His voice a rough whisper, head resting against the door. 

There was only silence.

Blue fire danced along his left arm, coiling like a living thing over the end of his arm. One rose in a flickering pillar to lick the blood and cybernetic fluid from his eye. _Nice seeing you again,_ he leaned into the touch, a comforting aura numbing the wound.

_You must fight._

_I know._

_we need you,_ a second pillar wavered up, nuzzling the stump of his arm. _He needs you._

he staggered to his feet, swaying like a ship at sea. The world streaking in muddy colors. Focus coming and going, one good eye leading the way. He raise a leg, tipped and slumped against the far wall. the dragons hissed for him to hurry, to find his strength.

He tried again, a dragon curled around his shoulders, the other molding in cracking blue energy down his left arm. The door fluctuated. Breathes heaving, he waited for it to still. The heat of the dragons, the soothing ancient power helping him stand.

“Hanzo,” the word came out a hoarse whisper. He cleared his throat, working a mouth dried by pain. “Hanzo?” he called, teeth gritted, pulling his shoulders straight and proud. There was no response. The dragons slithered around him, pressing into his skin, pressing inside him. He gasped, crackling lightning in an unprepared vessel almost tearing him apart.

He kicked the door open with a inhumane roar, the bellowing of ancient spirits pouring from his maw. The door cracked the wall behind it, bouncing back with a scream of metal. He was threw already, fresh gun raised.

A volley of bullets crashed across the room. He dove to the side, rolling from his knee behind a couch. Ducking to the side, he scanned the wide room. A comfortable lounge area with couches, chairs and a massive low table. Coffee cups overturned and half eaten food knocked aside. Bullets sent him back to safety, mind spinning. If only he could say the spell that would unleash the beasts inside him.

He could feel Hanzo, a throbbing in the distance. Calling like the moon sang to the sea. He needed to get to him, he was destined to be with him. A growl burned his throat, rising like a tornado. Wild destruction, deadeye trying to wake in a mess of blood. 

Popping over the back of the couch, he fired off three shots. Two hit. One man went down and didn’t get up. Captain Buck was backed into a corner and trapped against his body was Hanzo.

Black hair a filthy curtain over his face. Blood dripping off a shaggy beard to fall on his bare chest. It followed the curve of one muscled breast. Under the tattoo of the dragons. It was pale, a ghost of itself, barely there. 

The beast snarled, lunging forward and dragging him with them. He toppled over the couch, shots exploding above him. “Hanzo!” he screamed, thunder rolling in the sound. There was no response and terror lanced his heart. 

“Stop! Stop firing!”

A few stray shots and it was suddenly quiet. 

“Give him to me,” Jesse snarled, shoving the table up onto it’s side for a better block. “Give me Hanzo or i will kill every last onna ya sons of bitches.”

“Tell us who he is, and we will split the ransom with you. You will never have to worry again,” the captain kept Hanzo tight to his chest. A human shield. 

“Let him go,” the words a snarl, a primal need rising. Was it the dragons or him? Something wild and demanding.

“Don’t act foolish now,” guns clicked, “you think your family will be safe? Unless you tell us who this man is, we will go for your mother and sister before the sun sets.”

His throat closed, struggling the breathe. He could solve all his problems. His family would be safe. He would have money to get away, away from the Shimada Clan, away from Deadlock. 

_I could be free._

As soon as the thought passed through him, shame followed next. He wavered behind the table, blinded in one eye, missing his arm and all alone in a fight he couldn’t win. All the save a man that thought of him as a toy, something to play with, to torment and tease for his own amusement. A dog on a leash. The collar ground on his throat, sweat dripping from the remnants of the chain. 

He wouldn’t be a dog anymore.

“Seems to me,” he emptied the six shooters, letting the spent rounds ring on the floor. “There’s only one option then.” The bullets clicked into place, ammunition belt on his hips emptied. “Guess I’ll just have t’tell you who he is.” He flipped last gun around a finger, head tilted to rest on the cool wood.

His heart was steady, feeling it beating in his fingertips. In the throb of his wounded body, the dragons constricting. Did they understand what he was thinking? Did they know how he felt about their master?

It didn’t matter now anyway.

“The man you have held captive,” his weight shifting to his knees. “And tortured and are usin’ as a human shield.” he rolled to the balls of his feet, settling in a deep crouch. “Is my fucking friend!” he bellowed the last word, rearing up in a blaze of fire. Power surged down his arm, coiling in a storm of static, burning through his sleeve in a shower of sparks. The hammer fanned in a sweeping wave of bullets with an ear splitting roar. A tornado exploding in blue fire through the building as two spinning dragons tore the building apart.

Outlaws flying through the air, roof tearing off in chunks, chaos raining around them. Jesse leapt over the upended table, charging straight for the captain. The man was screaming, hands over his ears as the unbearable thunder of the dragons shook the compound down around them.

He tackled the man, Hanzo’s body slumping to the floor. Rage overcoming everything, the chain whipping from around his neck to crack ribs. The bigger man screamed, bucking in agony. A meaty fist struck out, knocking him back by the jaw. Stars bursting in his good eye. He rolled through the motion, pulling his last gun.

A shot rang out, the blast from two guns merging in perfect harmony. One landed, splattering blood smeared by the wind.

Jesse kicked the dead man’s gun away from him and turned to Hanzo. The strength beginning to drain from his body. Dragons destroying the compound in something close to glee. His knees gave, landing next to his Dragon. The regal man was breathing unevenly, skin sallow and covered in sweat and dirt. Blood matted his hair. Clothes ripped and torn. Jesse couldn't stop himself, hands gliding over the form of his boss. Checking for wounds but aching for touch, to make sure he was there. 

“Hanzo… Hanzo, baby,” he cupped a hollowed cheek. The man shifted but those pretty eyes didn’t open. y“C’mon, we gotta go. you gotta wake up,” he pulled the assassin into his arm, curling over in a protective shield.

Pieces of the ceiling falling around them, storm dripping in. Lightning raged outside. Hale came in a rush, pelting over his back. He grit his teeth against the pain, protecting the best he could. They didn’t have time to linger. 

The crackle at his side made him look up. A small blue creature, no bigger than a cat, was next to him. A tiny version of the great dragons sitting up and in its tiny paws was his arm.

“Fuck…thank you,” he took it gingerly, half expecting the dragon to speak for real. it nodded it’s head before fading away in a scattering of static.

“C’mon, baby, we gotta go.” He untied the sleeve on his left arm, cleaning the stump as best he could in the rain. The hiss and suction as it attached whited out by the pain of nerves reconnecting. He screamed, mouth pressed the hot slick of Hanzo’s chest. Writhing as his brain struggled with a overload of sensations.

“J-Jesse. you… came back for me?” 

A hand brushed along his head, soothing him with a simple touch. He pressed into it, kissing the hard curve of his chest. “Course I did, course i came back for you, Darlin’.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Rain dripped along his back, spiked with bits of hail as the storm built outside. The air electric with power, arching between sky and ground in a terrible bridge. 

Jesse kissed up the hard curve of Hanzo’s chest, tempering the endless bruises and nicks with soft lips. Desperate for more, for connection. A hand in his hair, forcing him to look up. “Jesse… your eye,” a broken sound following the statement, fingers trailing around the gory wound. “Deadeye?”

“Used it before it was ready,” he confirmed, pulling the man into his arms. Having his robotic one back, becoming whole again, giving him the flood of energy to survive a little longer. “T’take out the lock. Your presence was fading and fuck,” he managed to climb to his feet, drawing Hanzo along. “I thought they were about t’kill you.”

“I’ll have… to have it fixed,” Hanzo’s breathing ragged and unsettlingly wet. “Least I can do.”

“We gotta get out of here first,” he scooped the killer into his arms, head tucked to his chest tenderly. Lightning cracked too close for comfort, splintering the sky. The dragons howled in response, spiraling up into the gale with glee.

He could feel their happiness at being able to destroy, a trembling bond so slight he didn’t notice at first. A hum under his skin. “C’mon, we gotta go,” he started out into the storm, blood and tears washed from his face by the downpour.

They were soon replaced with fresh of both.

 

—

 

The dirt road was mud under the jeep’s tires, splattering up the windows. A lull between them in the cab, only the soft murmur of the radio filling it. The storm was still raging all around them but no tornados had been seen yet. A bump in the country road knocked them around, thumping the sleeping Hanzo into the passenger window. He didn’t wake, a pained expression haunting him.

Flicking through the radio on the dash, Jesse listened in for signs they were being pursued. By Deadlock stragglers or the police, itching from leaving a crime sight. It got under his skin, speeding through the night towards a safe house. It wasn’t safe to go home yet, not after the chaos he had left behind them.

The whole compound in flames, explosions fighting with the thunder for dominance. The entire gun supply and fleet of vehicles and diesel tanks fed to the fire. Whether he had killed every member or not, the gang would fall, picked off by scavengers. 

Stabs of pain behind his left eye reminded him that he was hanging on by a thread too. Blood running down his cheek in a steady stream, the occasional sizzle as a drop connected with the overheated metal. 

The collar was cold on his neck, grinding at rain softened scabs. He scratched at it, head fall back to the headrest. Exhaustion slowly winning over adrenaline as the endless prairie was devoured by the wheels.

 

—

 

The safe house was tucked back in a massive swath of trees that ran along a deep valley. Protected from the wind, the vegetation had taken hold. A creek filled with overflow and swept along in a torrent now. A log cabin, nothing more than a hunter’s hide out, had no drive way and no path to its squat porch.

The windows shuttered and barred, no signs of habitation visible from the outside. Strikes of lightning cast long shadows, writhing with the twisting branches. 

Rain slicked down his hair, plastered to his skin during the long hike. The jeep abandoned behind a thick stand of trees and Hanzo’s limp form in his arms. He was too hot, almost steaming in the downpour, despite the chill in the air.

The interior was frigid. A shock and hum in his ears as silence pulled around them. The storm firmly shut outside. It was much like he remembered, ratty, dinging furniture bought with cash from back alleys and seedy pawn shops. 

There was a quilt on the back of the couch, thick with dust and holes from over eager moths. Jesse settled Hanzo on the cushions with care. Finding a pillow, he propped the assassin up and wrapped him in the quilt. 

“Hanzo?” he called softly, body several feet to the left of his mind. Drifting in and out of reality. There was no response and he cursed. He had to get the power back on first. Training all his willpower on the simple task, he stumbled out of the only door. Tumbling down the steps, he landed in the mud. 

_Fuck._

He sighed, shoulder numb from the fall. Ethereal blue streaks swam passed him, not sure if they were real or not. He tried to stand, settling for dragging himself up by a porch post. He couldn’t stop now, not now. The batteries were stashed in the back, under a thick oil tarp. 

It took him several tries to insert them, fumbling with heavy insulated wires and the dark. “just fucking work!” he yelled against the thunder, pounded the wall with his robotic hand. 

Glimmering ribbons danced in front of his eyes, settling on either shoulder after a moment. _Dragons?_ He fruitlessly wiped the water out of his face. They were not in any shape he recognized, something vague and throbbing with energy. 

No thoughts pressed into his, just a comforting, soothing aura. Was he going to be able to see them all the time now?

Bands of static curled down his arm, filling it with energy and guiding him to click through the activation sequence one more time.

A boom and the generator was up and running, lost in the storm the next moment. _Thank god,_ he drooped into the wall, vaguely registering that the spirits had oozed through the wall and left him. 

It made the walk back to the front longer than it was. He knew it was only a few dozen steps. But after each few staggers, he had to rest. Heart staggering wildly, shock eating at the edge of his sight.

He fumbled with the front door, endless dark pools cascading from his fingers, filling up the air around him. It bubbled at his throat, rising every higher.

Panic settling on him, thrusting him through the door and slamming it behind. The ooze followed, dripping up the walls and rising in his throat. Blood, so much blood pouring out of the floor, twisting in thousands of hands.

Rasping for air, he stumbled away. Dehydration and exhaustion mixed with the shock but it didn’t make them go away. He knocked into the oversized loved seat, tumbling into it and everything went black.

 

—

 

Heat radiated against him, soaking through wet clothes to caress his skin. Instinctively burrowing into it, he pressed as close as he could get. The form draped along his body, curled above him. Soft breathes were hot on his neck.

Consciousness came slowly, building like hundreds of pinpricks. Stabbing into his aching head and torn body, only eased by the weight on his chest. His breathing matched steadily, arms slung around the warm burden.

“Good mornin’,” he rasped, one good eye stuck shut. He pried it open, blinking away a thick layer of crust and searching the face resting on his chest. Hanzo coiled around him for warmth. Still asleep, or too tired to get up. 

Following the rise and fall of each breath, Jesse traced up the powerful back and down to his tailbone. Mapping the smaller man, taking inventory to make sure he was still all there. He had lost weight, bones jutting sharper at hip and shoulder blade. 

They both had.

Jesse’s mouth was full of metal, bitter and thick. He swallowed, trying to work some moisture back into his tongue but he had nothing left to give. It pricked at his spirit, urging him to find the medkit and clean water. Not out of the woods yet, wounds needing to be disinfected and bandaged. Infection sure to set in otherwise.

“Hanzo,” his voice deep and rough, guttering in his chest. The man only shifted deeper, knees rucking up to just under Jesse’s armpits. He was curled forward, ear over the bigger man’s heart.

A mumble of Japanese and the killer as stilling again. 

“Hanzo… we gotta get water,” he tried to sit up, limbs trembling. They threatened to give out as he dumped the octopus into the cushions. More angry Japanese but Hanzo kept his eyes closed. 

Jesse managed to get to the kitchen, digging through the cabinet to find a med kit. The water was working thankfully and he drew them two massive glasses. They would need much more and a plan.

 

—

 

“How bad is it?” Jesse grunted as an alcohol wipe dapped at the edges of his left eye.

Hanzo’s face drawn into a pensive frown, chapped lips pursued as he concentrated. “The prosthetic iris and white have been burned out,” a careful swipe around the bottom lid, cleaning off layers of dust and blood and cybernetic fluid. “and the lens is shattered, I cannot tell the extent of the damage to the orb itself. I suspect it has seized up from overheating.”

“Not an easy fix.”

“You are lucky it didn’t fry your brain in the process.”

“Just a little overcooked,” he chuckled, settling his hands on his thighs. The air cold on his bared torso. Stolen shirt discarded on the floor. He felt more bandage than human after Hanzo’s careful ministrations.

“It was reckless, to use it when it was not ready,” Hanzo’s face was unreadable, carefully serene. 

“I took my chances.”

“To save me.”

“Course I had to save you.” A weak smile, head falling forward to rest on Hanzo’s shoulders. Their knees touching on the musty couch.

“Because you are my servant,” a bitterness cut into his voice but his hands were gentle, soothing over a thick scab on his forearm. 

“Mhm,” he made the uncommitted sound, “couldn’t bare the thought of leaving ya t’die.”

“How kind of you,” a sneer in the words but feathery light touches cascaded lovingly along the shape of his face. He leaned into it, resting his chin in Hanzo’s palm. “Too kind…” A thumb brushed along his busted bottom lip, spreading a healing salve. “foolish cowboy.”

“Makin’ me regret going back for you,” he couldn’t stop a wry chuckle, eyes struggling to open.

“I would not want to do that,” the words warm against the shell of his ear, sending a jolt down his spine. “I cannot ever thank you enough, Jesse McCree.”

A honeyed silence pulled between them, drowsily trying to digest his boss’s words. He knew he could think this through, figure out the truth if he could just get his brain working again. Instead, he sank into the welcoming arms of oblivions and into Hanzo.

 

—

 

“Hold still,” Jesse hissed, trying to wrangle Hanzo. The assassin was hissing at him, shoving him roughly in the shoulders. “You want me t’have t’cut off all your hair or you gonna behave?”

The gusts of heavy breathing, mingling in the late afternoon sun the only sound in the cabin. 

“Why must you cut it?”

“Cuz your head wound ain’t closing and the hair is getting all stuck in the scabs and shit,” he brandished the scissors again. “you wanna get it all shaved off at a hospital when it gets infected?”

“No,” a moody pout and sideways glance, “And we can’t go to the hospital.”

“I know that,” he put a hand on his hip, stronger today than yesterday. They had spent most of it sleeping, only waking up to down water and the power bars left in a cabinet. He still felt like he could take a very long nap. “So you gonna behave?”

“If it is really necessary,” Hanzo sighed, resting his weight on the bathroom sink.

“You know it is,” the bathroom was cold, overcast sky hinting at the cold front blown in on the storm. “take a seat on the tub’s edge, you’re too tall standing.”

The assassin lowered himself slowly into the tub, massively oversized sweats and shirt making him seem smaller than he really was. A chill moved through the cabin, eating at the edges of the room. 

Jesse eased down on the edge of the tub on Hanzo’s left side. The gash was a sticky black ribbon from above his left ear and wrapping half way to the back. “I’m gonna have t’cute a lot, i’ll be careful okay?”

“Do what you must,” Hanzo’s eyes were closed, “I will endure losing my beauty.”

“Take a lot more than a bad hair cut t’do that,” he leaned in, carefully beginning to pull still damp hair away from the cut. Some was stuck in the softened scabs. He picked at them with the medical scissors, snipping through the worst. 

“You are always complimenting me, Jesse,” the man didn’t look up, eyes closed as bits of hair dropped around him.

“Yeah?” Jesse leaned closer, squinting his one eye as he cut around a deep part. It would need stitches. “So?” 

“Why?”

The scissors stilled. Suddenly the sound of their breathing was loud in the small room. Hanzo’s thigh brushed against his. “What do you mean why?” his voice was almost normal, returning to cutting. “You’re a handsome guy, personality’s a little lacking but-“ A sharp elbow connected with his side, making him grunt. “Don’t forget who has the scissors, Hans,” he took a bigger chunk of hair than he needed.

“Forget I asked,” the assassin’s face closed off, going painfully serene. 

In the end, he cropped Hanzo’s hair on the left side completely. From his neck to the edge of the crown of his head, soft short hair now stood on end. It wasn’t as even as clippers could have gotten it but it wasn’t bad. Half way through the cut, Hanzo had told him to just do both sides and he complied, working in silence.

They were both too tired to probe the tangle of unspoken words stretching between them.

 

—

 

Night had fallen again, the second since they had escaped and the cold front hadn’t moved off. The heater was struggling from so much use, leaving the single bedroom cold and drafty. A small bed was pushed against the wall, old quilts piled high at the foot.

Both men stood in front of it, exhausted just from healing. The couch and love chair hadn’t been bad but the chill was overwhelming in the living room. There were no windows here, keeping in more heat and muffling the ever present howl of the wind.

“Pretty small,” Jesse ran a hand through his hair.

“We’ve slept in tighter quarters before.”

“Got me there,” he chuckled, shuffling to the side of the bed and sliding in. “Just be careful of the bandage.”

The bed really was small, narrow but soft. A slightly musty smell stirred up as they got comfortable and the blankets over them. It helped keep the chill at bay, close enough he could feel the heat radiating off his companion. But not quite touching, not daring to press the boundaries between them. 

Had anything really changed? Jesse worried his bottom lip, left arm above him to keep the cold metal away. _I saved his life,_ the thought pushed on his tongue, trying to pry his teeth apart. _The dragons obeyed me,_ he hadn’t had time to think what that might mean. Or the fact he could still see them, ghostly stripes of blue curled under Hanzo’s chin and arm like two long cats. 

“Do they always sleep like that?”

“What?” tension rippled through the smaller man, the two dragons raising their head to frown at Jesse.

“The dragons, curled up with ya like pets?”

A long pause, only their heartbeats in the room. 

“You can see them?” Hanzo rolled over so fast it made his head spin. “Jesse, you can fucking see them?”

The burning light in his companion’s eyes caught him off guard, pure astonished delight. Taking decades off his age. “Y-yeah, ever since they… kinda…” he raised his weight on his left elbow, the shift in energy infectious. “It was like they slipped inside my skin and helped me find ya and then shot from my gun when I rescued you.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened further. A hand fisted in Jesse’s borrowed shirt, pulling him closer. “What was it like?” Soft breathes gusted over his face, so close he could see dozens of fine silver hairs speckled over the man’s jaw and cheeks. 

“Warm,” it popped out of his mouth. “And comforting.”

“What else?” Hanzo’s legs were tangling with his, their chests together. 

Struggling the think, distracted by the soft grind of muscled legs against his calves. Long cold toes splayed against his ankles. “They led me to you, I could feel their need to find you. Something desperate and hungry and Hanzo…” he felt the same emotions rush over him, flooding his bruised and battered body with heat. “never felt anything quite like it.”

“It is…” Hanzo’s face was so close, dark eyes molten. “The mark of the dragon.”

Fear jolted down his spine. “What do you mean, Hanzo?” Would this tie him to the clan further, entangle him deeper in servitude and leave him bound.

“It is an honor,” a hand carded through his hair, a tenderness that left him aching. “Not many men are worthy of them.”

As if to emphasis the point, the two blue noodles wriggled into the space between them. Surprisingly warm, they glowed faintly. “So, i’m gonna be seeing them… forever now?”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo began stroking the dragons, tenderly rubbing along their squarish heads. “ they do not often show themselves, even to me. They must feel a bond between us.”

“Hmm,” he chewed the corner of his mouth. The darkness wrapping around them, the faint glow in the middle casting strange shadows. “I guess you could say we are bonded, in one way or another. Me being your servant and all and us being…” he let the space drag out, wanting for Hanzo to fill them. The man remained silent, their legs entwined. “Friends,” he finished, all the heat and comfort the dragons brought him fading away.

Nothing had really changed.

 

—

 

They decided to risk using the emergency satellite phone buried in the back woods of the cabin inside a lead lined box. It was outdated and worn. It worked though, tuning in a connection, he dialed for the one person he could trust.

His ma picked up on the third ring. “Jesse? Jesse is this you?” her voice shook, stuttering breathes betraying a flood of tears. 

“Ma, it’s me, it’s me and i’m all right,” he reached out, touching the leaves around him in the dirt. Wishing he could reach through the waves to hold her.

“And Han-so? Is he alright? God, Jesse what happened?”

“He’s fine, Ma,” a weak smile tried to form. He settled his back against the tree, knees drawn up slightly. “Are you and Mabel safe?”

“Yes,” a rattling sound and a hysterical laugh. “We’re fine. Mabel’s been up on the roof with the rifle, keeping watch. No trouble though. Sweetheart, when you comin’ home?”

His chest was too tight. “I don’t know, Ma,” he rested his head in his hand. “Might not be safe for me t’come home for a while now. We took out the Deadlock gang, blew up the base.”

“That’s my boy.”

They shared a familiar chuckle. How many times had they had this same conversation? 

Leaves crunched beside him. He jerked, reaching for his gun. It was only Hanzo. he relaxed some. The man settled at his side in the leaves. 

“Talking to Ma,” he nodded to the phone in his hand.

“Is she safe?”

“Yeah.”

“I am pleased.”

The warm press of Hanzo’s head on Jesse’s shoulder made his heart do funny things. He covered the receiver with his hand. “Hanzo, I know… we gotta get back to the clan-“

Hanzo grabbed the phone from his hand, pushing him over into a pile with the other. “Mama,” Jesse scrambled, trying to take the phone back. He grunted as stitches pulled and bruised muscles screamed, tumbling into the leaves with the killer. 

“Mama McCree,” Hanzo settled his feet on the crook of Jesse’s hips and tossed him back. “We will be home shortly. I need to see more embarrassing photos and try your famous apple pie and I won’t leave until we have that bonfire we talked about.”

Tears tried to well up inside him, fighting them down as Hanzo talked to his mother and made plans for them. Even if it was just a lie, he would get to see his mama again and a taste of what life might have been like.

“Hanzo, thank you,” he reached out, grabbing the man in both arms. Tackling them back into the mess of leaves and sticks, both groaning as wounds threatened to open.

“Idiot,” Hanzo smacked him. 

He just dove deeper, pressing Hanzo back into the soft earth. “I know, I know,” he buried his face in the soft skin at the man’s neck. Breathing him in, stroking a primal need for connection. It jolted down his spine, like when the dragons had swelled within him, urging him on.

“You are the most stupid,” hands clawed weakly at his back, “Stupid cowman.”

“Shucks, Sug,” he laughed, dragging the nip of his nose over the freshly shaved side of the man’s head. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

“You are insufferable!” Nails scratched down his back, nudging him closer. Hanzo’s thighs relaxed, opening wider. Jesse’s weight sank between them as natural as a sigh. His heart jumped, electricity arching down his spine. 

“Hanzo,” fine hairs tickled his lips, behind the shell of one ear. “Am I really that… unbearable?”

“You really are a fool.”

He was thrown off roughly, landing with a wince on a tree root. He just laughed, staring up at a spinning blue sky. 

 

—

 

“Jesse, Jesse what happened to your eye?”

Cool hands dragged him down, forcing him to stoop. His Ma doing what mother’s did best, making a fuss over him and Hanzo.

They had limped home in the stolen jeep down dirt roads but now they were safe and home. And sat down immediately at a table piled high with every kind of comfort food imaginable. Even their still healing wounds were forgotten, shoveling food down barely tasting it.

Hanzo had mashed potatoes stuck in his shaggy beard, gulping it down. Jesse laughed, nudging the man’s foot with his own. He got a glare in return that was quickly hidden by a beer mug.

“Slow down,” Ma cautioned, piling his plate with a fresh biscuit and a scoop of green bean casserole. “You still look dehydrated, baby,” a weathered hand drifted to the man’s shoulder, patting comforting. “Gotta get you fattened back up, nice and strong.”

“Mama McCree, you are quite the charmer. Perhaps I will stay here and marry you instead.”

“Oh!” his ma giggled, “Jesse, your man is too charming.”

“Don’t I know,” he answered wryly, stopping long enough to gulp down his beer.

Mabel slid him another one, face grim. They shared a nod. 

“Ma, we’re gonna go have a smoke. We’ll be back for dessert,” Mabel smiled at the family before leading the way out.

They settled on the porch, legs dangling off into the flower beds.

His body shuddered at the rush of nicotine, searing at tired nerve endings. “Fuck,” he blew out a ring of smoke. “Missed these.”

The soft rustling of the grass passed between them, sharing their old vice as the tension grew. 

“You gonna tell him how you really feel?”

Jesse held the fire inside, burning him up. Not surprised Mabel had realized what was going on, or at least part of it. “Nope.” He tapped the ass on the edge of the porch, twisting the cigarillo around in his mechanical hand.

“He feel anything for you?” Her broad shoulder nudged into his.

He felt sixteen again, crushing on a senior jock. “Always pickin’ the ones that treat me bad.” 

“You do have a habit of loving men that don’t deserve you.” 

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” Jesse laughed, nudging her back. “He’s not all bad though. We’re friends.”

“Can’t he have ya killed at any moment?”

“Guess that’s true.” He rested his weight back on his elbows, watching the clouds roll by overhead. “could get me down on my knees any moment too.”

“God, Jesse, Fuck,” she smacked him. “Just suck his dick already.”

He chuckled, heart light in his chest for once. 


	9. Chapter 9

Bending the Arrow C 9

 

“Can you hand me the mustard?” 

Jesse licked a smear of it off his finger, hotdog held in the other. “Sure thing,” he passed it over, amusement growing on his face.

Hanzo was grinning from ear to ear, freshly cooked hotdog still wavering on the poker. A fire keeping back the chill for now, thick blankets piled below them with pillows to make a long. Mabel and Ma on the other side of the fire.

Hanzo squirted a generous amount of mustard on his scorched down. “I have had hotdogs before,” he dumped ketchup and onion and cheese on it, “but never cooked one myself, over a real fire.”

“Shucks, really darlin’?” he laughed around a bite, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “we had a cookout nearly every week, didn’t we, Ma?”

“A family tradition,” she agreed, pouring another tumbler of whisky for Mabel and then herself. “Though back then, you always played for us.”

“Played?” Hanzo looked up from his massive hotdog. “You never informed me that you were musical.”

“Oh yeah,” Mabel tipped her hat up with a lazy smile. “Used t’try to charm all the boys with his guitar, singing some old ballad.” 

“Hey, it worked,” he pointed a finger at her, fighting down a blush. 

“More on the girls than the guys.”

“That wasn’t my fault, this handsome mug attracts them all.”

He could feel Hanzo’s eyes on him without looking, focusing on his sister instead. She snorted in disbelief. The firelight turning her long braid into molten gold. 

“It has worked on me, at the very least,” Hanzo was suddenly so close, chest pushed into his shoulder.

“See Mabel, this mug is what brings them in,” the words a little faster than normal. He gulped down his whisky. 

“Though… i would be charmed to hear your playing, Jesse.”

“I’d play for ya, darlin’,” he saw Mabel smirking from the corner of his eye, “but I don’t have m’guitar anymore.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mabel was digging in the back of the truck. “I got you covered.” She pulled out his battered and worn guitar case, covered in punk rock stickers and country legends. “Got it out of the attic this morning, just for a moment like this.”

“Uh…” he fumbled for words, suddenly finding a guitar in his hands after all these years. 

“Even put new strings on her and tuned her up for ya,” she grinned wolfishly between the two of them. She retreated to her side of the fire, settling back with a fresh glass in her hand. 

Jesse mouthed a silent “thank you” to her, insides tightening at the thought of playing for Hanzo. Would he remember how? This mechanical arm was skilled enough for it, unlike his old one. Strumming timidly at the cords, he found a grip that was comfortable. HIs metal fingers clicking a little on the cords, humming with the vibrations.

“Got any requests?” he asked Hanzo, eyes crinkling at the corners with the force of his smile.

The smaller man glanced up, mouth stuffed to the brim with his heavily loaded hotdog. A snort smeared mustard on his nose and he chomped through the bit. Dark eyes sparkled in the fire light, washing the bite down with a chug of whisky. Tears welled up instantly and he coughed, struggling the mouthful down and gasping.

“Strong stuff, huh?” 

“Very.” Hanzo coughed again, leaning over to bury his face against Jesse’s shoulder. The muffled sound tickling him as he worked the fire out of his throat.

“Play something nice, sweet and fun,” Mama requested, russet skin glowing in the firelight. “I feel like dancing.”

“anything for you mama,” he wet his whistle again. He started off playing a few cords, getting familiar with it again. Trying to remember what he had used to know by heart. The music was soft and slow, humming along to an old favorite before finding the right pace.

Mama nodded along, her smile growing as she recognized it. “I love this one, Jesse,” she climbed to her feet. mabel joined her with a laugh, sweeping her along in a messy dance. They weren’t really good dancers of well matched, Mabel far too tall for the diminutive woman. 

Jesse tried to soak it up, the warm laughter as his two favorite girls in the world goofed around to the old song. They clapped and sang along. Mabel twirling her under her arm or boosting her up to her shoulder in an old swing dance move. He played for as long as they danced, Hanzo tapping his foot to it. 

The hotdog finished and the fresh glass of whisky half down already. Looking at the happily family with tears in his eyes, bright in the firelight. Had he ever had times like this? happy silly nights around a campfire.

“Hanzo, help a poor old woman out,” his ma smiled down at his fake lover. “Mabel’s just too tall for me, why don’t you dance with me?”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face before, to jesse’s surprise, he got to his feed. “I would be honored, though I am not as good a dancer as your dear daughter.” He bowed slightly, taking a weathered hand with care.

Jesse hummed his approval, playing a slow classic country song. Hanzo and his mother talking softly as they slowly danced around the fire. Moving with a casual grace and care, the assassin handled his ma with the most delicate of touch. A sweetness in it making his heart hurt suddenly. This is what he might have had, if things had been different for him. If he’d never gotten tangled up in Deadlock. If the world had been kinder. If he had been smarter, he might be here with a real lover. They might have been visiting to show their daughter the joys of running free in the prairie or learning how to lasso a horse from Mabel. ma showing her the best way to make apple pie or set a snare to catch her own dinner.

They two of them teaching her how to shoot straight. Clay pigeons cracking in the sky and targets on hay bales split open by an arrow. The nights in the old bedroom smokey and sweet with lazy kisses and needy moans. Mornings spent playing footsie under the table and sipping coffee on the porch.

Showing her how to take down a man twice her size and send dragons screaming after her enemies. Adventure and danger two sides to the same coin. Fierce as the spirit dwelling with her, a leader that would command the Shimada clan.

“Jesse?”

He snapped out of thoughts, blinking away the haze. 

Hanzo was crouched in front of him, looking concerned. Mama had settled next to Mabel again, fanning herself and sharing an iced beer from the cooler. the rustle of plastic promised marshmallows were about to be roasted.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he ran his flesh hand through his hair. “Just… got caught up in a rabbit trail.”

“What?” 

“Ah, expression like letting your mind wander off.” he realized he had stopped playing all together. 

“what were the rabbits you were chasing?” Hanzo settled next to him on the quilts. 

“Hm,” he looked into the fire, strumming the guitar absently. “things I can’t have.”

“What is it you desire?”

“I’m not even sure, Hanz.” 

The yakuza frowned at him, thoughtful expression overtaking his care free one. He was handed a skewer for marshmallows and a tupperware with s’more ingredients. Mabel winked at him and set the whisky bottle down between them. “Drink up, boys,” she scuffed her boot against Jesse’s before going back to her seat.

They made s’mores and slathered them in peanut butter. It was a sticky mess of laughs and sugared breathes. Licking chocolate off fingers only to burst out giggles. Winding the evening into real night with good food and good company.

They sat knee to knee, not sure what had brought them together. It had all felt so natural, forgetting the lies and deception. Hanzo’s face was ruddy, laughing so hard he snorted. It melted Jesse to the core, to see Hanzo happy. Seeing a side of him that was new and dangerous to his poor heart. This was a Hanzo he could love without destroying himself in the process.

A breathy sigh and Hanzo looking into the fire as he roasted one last marshmallow.

The song shifted, instinct guiding him. Unable to keep a flood of something from bubbling up. When the first words left his lips, Hanzo froze. 

“The other night dear, as I lay sleeping,” his voice low and husky in the cool air. “I dreamed I held you in my arms. But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. So I hung my head and I cried.” He hummed along, eyes falling to his boots on the blanket. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, You make me happy when skies are gray. _You'll never know dear, how much I love you._ Please don't take my sunshine away.”

The song trailed off, last notes swept away on the breeze. Hanzo’s eyes unreadable, thrown into shadow by flickering light. He couldn’t hold the look, glancing away as Mabel and his Ma clapped and sang his praises.

Hanzo picked up the whisky bottle and drank deeply.

 

 

The bonfire had died down to a dense bed of coals and lazy flickering flames. They licked over the last few logs tossed into the middle. An occasionally breeze twisted the smoke, pleasant on the cool spring night. Prairie stretching out in front of them, the house behind. 

Jesse stretched his legs out, warming his feet. A glass of whisky in one hand and a s’more in the other. Mashmallow fluff stuck in his whiskers as he took another bite. “Bring me another beer, Mabel?”

She grunted from the other side of the fire, stetson pulled down low. Her chin tucked into the bandana and ankles crossed. Mama McCree was asleep next to her, head resting on a broad shoulder. The evening of fun wearing them all out.

“How is your eye?” Hanzo murmured, pulling Jesse out of his thoughts. Words just a bit slurred, his own glass empty.

“Feeling pretty good,” he touched the eyepatch hesitantly. A family friend had come over that morning to examine both of them. Other than a round of antibiotics and a few proper stitches, they had been fine. “Hows your head feeling?”

Hanzo touched the newly buzzed hair, following the trail of stitches on the left side. “It feels lighter.”

“New haircuts always feel good.” The whisky was cool and rich, heat flooding over his tongue. “Specially all cleaned up now.”

“The clan will be displeased,” a bitter chuckle and Hanzo leaned into him. The blanket over their lap keeping away the chill. A softness on Hanzo’s face squeezing his heart.

“They care that much?” he trailed a hand over Hanzo’s thigh, trying to comfort the only way he really knew how.

“Yes,” Hanzo eased closer. “I like my new look. iI feels like a chance for a new start.”

It sent shivers down his spine, soft, feathery breathes ghosting over his throat and chest. Plaid unbuttoned a little farther than normal, thick soft chest hair showing. Eyes flicking over to where his mother and sister dozed. 

Cautiously, he wrapped his arm around Hanzo, hand settling on his hip. “Looks mighty fine on you, even if i miss your wings.”

“My what?” A soft chuckle resounded against his neck, lips kissing over tanned skin with every word.

Heat coiled through his gut, fat and heavy inside him.“You know, your little hair wings,” he mimicked the way those bits of hairs had stood out with his flesh hand.

Hanzo laughed, leaning back to settle on the quilt. Jesse joined him, arm behind his head to look up at the endless sky. “I will never think of them the same way, it was simply tradition.”

“everything’s set out for you, huh?”

“Yes,” the smaller man shifted, turning on his side. The air hazy, a line of connection between their bodies

The warm caress of a muscled, tattooed arm draped over his middle, lazy as a sunday morning. Heart lurching into a unsteady run as Hanzo pressed against his side. A finely shaped leg twisting over his own. “You happy about that? Having your life all planned.”

“I used to be.”

“Hm,” he sighed, letting himself have this small happiness. Hanzo lounging on him, a comforting weight. Trying not to hope, not to believe, that Hanzo had understood the meaning in his song, “And now?”

For a long moment, it was just them and the stars. Eyes closed and breathing together, tempted to doze off with full bellies and alcohol soaked brains. Hair tickled the shell of his ear, followed by soft lips. Pleasure jolting straight to his groin and he shifted, knowing he should pull away. Unable to stop himself from desiring more.

Whispered words dripping into his ear, so soft it was almost lost. “I want to be free,” hanzo’s arm tightened around his middle. Holding on for dear life and Jesse couldn’t resist turning to wrap him up. Guiding the killer tight to his chest, breathing in the sweet scent of his hair. The man resisted for a moment before melting. 

“it’ll be alright, Hanners,” stroking the freshly shorn side of his head with a thumb. “We’ll figure something out.”

A soft hum, lips vibrating at the crest of his breast. “I hope so, Jesse,” a kiss pressed into the dip of his throat, fanning the heat burning in his core. It was a kiss, wasn’t it? “I hope things change when we return to Japan.”

“whatcha mean?” his voice thick and husky, body responding against his will. More worried at the way his heart was aching, those confusing thoughts from before trying to emerge again.

Hanzo’s mouth ghosted along his throat, the arm around his middle keeping him locked in pace. “You are marked by the dragon,” words fluttering on his pulse, making his hips twitch forward. Coils of tension curling in his gut, stringing pleasure along his nerves. “and saved my life at the risk of your own.”

“Y-yeah?” he fought back a confused whimper as Hanzo nosed along his collarbone. Forcing the plaid to the side to breathe him in. “Fuck,” he grunted, belly clenching as Hanzo arched into him. The scent of burned sugar and whiskey strong in the air, along with wood smoke and crushed prairie grass.

“When we return to Japan,” Hanzo pushed him onto his back, rolling to sit on top of him. the fire casting his edges in molten gold. A moan escaped Jesse, mouth clamped shut the next moment with his flesh hand. A darkness in Hanzo’s eyes unreadable and his hand was suddenly covered by the killer’s. keeping his flood of questions in check. “I will set you free, no matter what the elders say. You have repaid your debt to the clan. I would have never marked it against you in the first place.”

Thudding filled his ears, staring up at his fake lover. The crush of his muscled ass digging into the joke belt buckle mabel had gotten him years ago. Hanzo would have BAMF imprinted on his ass if he didn’t move. 

“Jesse,” the word was half slurred, Hanzo bending at the waist till he loomed over Jesse’s face. “Do you remember the night we met? How you pushed me against the wall in the heat of battle like a damn fool.”

Jesse whimpered, unable to speak with his mouth pressed shut. He managed a nod, helplessly pinned in place. The blanket falling around Hanzo’s hips, shielding the joining of their bodies. Lava exploded through his veins, scorching desire as Hanzo shifted lower, settling himself fully on the thick bulge straining his jeans.

Hips snapped up, thrusting into the tormenting heat and Hanzo rode it with grace, rippling over him. Fists clenched in the blanket, trembling with primal need. Every cell on fire, searing him from the inside out. His mouth clamped shut, so hard it hurt, wanting more, so much more.

Hanzo’s free hand braced on his right breast, fabric shoved to the side. Calloused palm ghosting over the caramel nipple, light caresses till it was stiff and eager. Every little flick of the killers fingers jolting to his groin, half pleading for Hanzo to lower his mouth to the assaulted bit of flesh. 

His family was right there, across the bonfire in the dark, asleep for now and Hanzo chose now, now to finally respond to his teasing. Was it just for them, hoping to get caught and cement their relationship. He didn’t know that Mabel had figured out their ruse.

“i wanted you to fuck me, so,” Hanzo slotted himself against Jesse, drawing out a strangled moan from both of them, “fucking bad.” He thrust messily up his stomach, eyes dazed with alcohol and desire. The hand crushing his mouth shifted to brace on his chest. “And now, now, you’ll be free.” 

 

—

 

Jesse sat on the roof long after the rest of the house had finally gone to bed. Turning the evening over and over in his mind like a puzzle he could solve. Thick smoke coiled around him, chain smoking the whole stolen pack. Mabel would be pissed in the morning. Though she had clapped him on the back and encouraged him to go get some cock after catching the two of them on the blanket. 

Thankfully his Mama hadn’t woken up and then could untangle before things got even worse.

The prairie stretched out in endless gently rolling waves. moonlight turned it into a vast silver ocean, as familiar as his own hands. This place had been his home off and on for decades. The last remains of his family were here, tied to this bit of earth and sky. 

Hanzo was asleep in the bed they had shared with casual acceptance. Until now. The thickness in his groin refusing to go down, even now, alone and shivering in the wind. Hanzo wanted him, desired to feel him deep inside until he was fucked raw.

_Why now?_ he turned the question, considering what had happened on their two week vacation. Now that it was coming to a close. Their recovery almost complete. The press had called dozens of times, talking to his mother and sister and Hanzo. He’d refused from the start, watching the lies unfold.

A streak of blue landed on the rose next to him, coiling until it settled into the shape of a dragon. The other appeared a moment later, on his other side. They seemed dignified and ancient, gazing across the west. 

Then one clawed into his lap and flopped down. It had enough weight to make him grunt and he shifted awkwardly, getting it’s hind leg off his balls. “Just like a cat,” he sighed, hand already being head butted by the other. He put both to use, scratching and petting soft fur and slippery cool scales.

He studied them, wondering just why they had marked him and what that really meant. Would they miss him, when he left? He had to leave, didn’t he. Once he’d been officially released from service to the Shimada Clan, he would return here.

The thought had once seemed perfect but now it was too tight on his skin. Life here was simple and quiet and everything he should want after a life of struggle. 

He blew a ring of smoke, watching it drift apart on the breeze. The dragons followed it with their noses. “Whaddya think?” he watched them exchange glances. “Your master is more twisted up than a tornado.”

_Save him,_ the thought jabbed into his brain, knocking him half over.

“He’s fine, just passed out drunk,” he tried to reassure them but now they both bobbed anxiously. Low keening whines rising from twin throats. “He’ll regret tonight, if he can remember it at all.”

_Save him,_ they insisted, standing up on hind legs to look him in the eye. _Save us, Jesse._

A shiver ran down his spine, gazing into those fathomless blue eyes. “I ain’t gonna let him come t’harm,” his draw thickening with worry. 

_They poison him,_ the voices high and sharp, needles in his brain. _Save him._

 

—

 

“Pass the syrup please,” Jesse pointed with a fork full of pancake to the little pitcher of warm maple goodness.

Hanzo groaned, head in his hands next to him. “Please, not so loud,” he looked green around the gills.

Mabel laughed, louder than necessary. “Thought you could handle your liquor? Not used to the way us McCrees drink.” she smirked, earning a smack from Mama.

“Be kind to our guest. We have all had a morning as rough after over celebration,” the wrinkles around her eyes deepened but not dampening the glitter in her gaze. “But next time, we drink tequila instead of whisky. It goes down easier on my own bones.”

“Sure thing, Mama,” Jesse winked at her. “Will bring ya a bottle of the best next time we’re around.”

“We were rude, to not bring you one this time,” hanzo managed, nursing the cup of tea. 

“A fine, upstanding young man,” Ma agreed, the sunlight highlighting the thick stripes of silver around her face. “Remind me t’send you off to the airport with a snack tomorrow.”

“I would… appreciate it,” Hanzo winced, setting his head back on the table.

Mabel caught his gaze and made an obscene gesture with a brow raised. Heat charged over his face. He hissed a warning, jerking his head to the door. They had mostly finished breakfast. He paused to cram the last of his bacon into his mouth and wash it down with coffee.

“We’re gonna get started on the chores, Mama,” he rose to his feet, dusting his hands on his jeans. “You take care of Hanzo, if ya don’t mind too much. Fellow’s been through a lot.”

“He sure has,” she cooed over the assassin, taking the chance to baby him. “Why don’t we move to my sitting room while these two broncos go run around?”

“You are truly an angel, Mama McCree.”

Mabel rolled her eyes with a shrug and they headed outside. He didn’t think Hanzo could do much more harm than he already had with the sweet elderly woman. 

They fell into an easy silence, working together to check the stabled horses and ride out to find the herds. They were mulling about in peace, eating grass and basking in the sunshine. Occasionally exchanging barbs and challenges. For a time, it was just like being a youth again, full of life and simple joys and struggles.

The horse swayed beneath him, riding ahead along the crest of a hill. Lungs full to bursting with the pure clean air. Hat blown back and hair wild, he urged into a gallop. Throwing up his arms, using just his knees he yelled to the sky, letting everything go into it till the sky practically sang it back.

He was sweaty and happy when they finally rode back to the house, swinging out of the saddle like a young man. The chaps feeling just right, warm from friction and flesh and sunlight. Mabel slung her arm around his shoulders, just tall enough to do it. Sharing a laugh on an inside joke from when they had both been closeted and dating each others partners behind the scenes.

“Greetings, Jesse, Mabel.”

The strain in Hanzo’s voice set his nerves on edge, instantly dropping the warmth. Hand already reaching into his vest as they stepped through the front door. A camera flash blinded him, tearing at his good eye. Mabel growled, lunging forward before it suddenly shifted into an easy lope. 

“Looks like we got some visitors, Jess,” she laughed, broad open face completely without guile. 

“I can see that, Mabel,” he rumbled, hand sliding to hook into his belt instead. 

The reporters grinned like wolves from the armchairs around the sitting room. A photographer snapped another of his face before retreating to his owner. Talking quietly as Mama McCree waved them over.

“It’s so exciting, having them actually here instead of just on the phone.” she was nestled against Hanzo’s side and the arm of the couch. “I’ve been telling them all about the farm.”

“I’ve been regaling them with our adventures since we came here. Especially the morning I got chased by a chicken.” Pleading eyes meeting his one good one.

“What happened to your eye, Mr McCree?” A blond woman with a sharp face held her recorder up, taking audio and video from the red light blinking at him.

“Hunting accident,” he shrugged, easing to lean his shoulder against the door frame. Mabel had already taken a seat in an open armchair, long legs stuck out. 

“Will you make a full recovery?”

“I reckon so, bodyguard ain’t much good with only one eye,” he flashed a grin at Hanzo, heart pounding. He had almost forgotten why they came out here in the first place, making sure their lie went off smoothly. 

“You would still be welcome to guard my body at any time.”

Everyone turned to look at Hanzo, his cheeks pink. Jesse’s mouth hung open. not in his wildest dreams, had he imagined Hanzo would be trying to flirt with him like this. It took him a beat to realize he needed to respond.

“Sucks, Darin’,” he laid on the drawl, casually walking over to his pretend lover, “I’m already lookin’ forward t’guarding you again tonight.” He stooped down, hands on he bent knees. Eye to eye, he reached out with his flesh arm to tilt his friend’s face up. Shifting his shoulder to drop the serape over his robotic hand, hiding it out of side. “And every night for the foreseeable future.”

“Jesse, you are far too charming,” A long well worn hand stroked along his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into it with an unsteady breath, feeling the cameras on them, the hungry eyes and itching fingers. Desperate for a story, of an exclusive, for the first kiss caught on tape. 

“Should I stop, Darlin’?” he smirked, tossing his gaze to the nearest reporter. Hanzo’s eyes flicked to her, just the fastest cutting examination. “Cuz I just got back from a ride and feeling frisky as a young buck.”

“Good god, just fuck already,” Mabel threw her hands in the air, stealing the attention.

Hanzo’s sigh only loud enough for him as he leaned back. The moment gone and McCree shifted to settle at his side instead. Hanzo’s hand instantly went to his mechanical hand, covering his arm with his own. The sleeves of his shirt long enough to cover his tattoos.

“Has it been inconvenient, having a happy couple here, Mabel?” they pounced on her. “Have you had any embarrassing moment? Where is your boyfriend?” 

She laughed, eyes dancing and seeming to the world like a normal woman. Harmless and charming with maybe too big a smile and ruggedness more often seen on a man. “Ya’ll need to learn your manners,” she pulled off her cowboy hat, glorious blond hair falling around her face. The click of photos filled the room. “And sides, the only one interested in dating men, is Jesse.”

“You’re gay?”

“You’re both gay?”

Mama McCree grinned, raising her hands in explanation. “My babies love who they love and i couldn’t be prouder or either of them. I’ll miss grand babies but maybe someone will adopt.” Her hopeful eyes landed squarely on him.

His heart lurched painfully, grinding his knee into Hanzo to keep him from blurting something out. “Aw Ma, we aren’t t’ talking about that yet. Look at Mabel t’give you grandkids, she’s younger than us and better suited to parenting.”

“My job keeps me on the road constantly,” Hanzo joined in on the lie but the flicker of sadness in his eyes was almost real. “We will have to start by getting, perhaps, a cat.” 

They shared a chuckle, Jesse leaning in to murmur into the man’s ear. “Don’t break my mama’s heart again”

The hand over his tightened, warm against the cold metal.

“Why the new haircut, Mr Hattori?” The blond asked, eyes too intent on the scar winding across his head.

“What? don’t you like it?” Jesse grinned, taking his own hat off and plopping it on Hanzo’s head. “Plus don’t he look cute as a button in cowboy gear?” A flash of a camera, sure to embarrass Hanzo once they got home but they didn’t need anyone sniffing around too closely.

“You should see him in a yukata,” Hanzo countered, tipping the hat up with a finger. “he is quite the looker.”

“Aw, hon, here i am in my full cowboy glory and you’re not appreciating how my ass looks in these chaps.”

“Trust me,” Hanzo caught his scruffy jaw in a hand, forcing their eyes to lock. “I plan on appreciating the work of art at my own leisure.”

The rest of the interview went much the same, ridiculous over the top flirting. Too many questions about things they didn’t want to give away and hiding each other’s wounds as best they could. Mama handling her fair share and Mabel fielding inquires about why she was living on the farm and had left her sheriffs job back in California. To her credit, she never so much as blinked.

Being on the other side of interrogations had severed her well. It made the hair on Jesse’s neck stand up, unsettled by the version of his sister. They had both worn many iterations of each other, some better and some worse. 

Hanzo was fading next to him, his head shifting to rest on him. He still smelled faintly of alcohol this close. Jesse rubbed his knee comfortingly. “You look mighty tired, sweetheart.”

A low hum and the ruthless killer nuzzled the sweet of his bicep. “I am.”

He nodded, catching Mabel’s understanding look. Mama was rather wilted too.

“Thank ya kindly,” jesse pulled himself to his feet. Turning to help Hanzo up too. “For your time, but my darlin’ is about to fall asleep where he sits. My Ma too so i’m going t’ask you t’leave now.”

There was a moment of tension, looks passing from reporter to paparazzi and back again. Mabel eased between them, hands raising apologetically. “I’mma suggest you let them and my ma rest up. I’ll show you around the farm and where Jesse and I used t’get up to trouble.”

Hanzo shuffled along with him, retreating to their room on the second story. The interaction had worn them both out, sinking onto the bed. The thick straps and buckles of his chaps dug into his legs but he was too tired to do anything about it. 

“that was easier, than before,” Hanzo mumbled into his pillow.

Jesse had to agree, even if it made his heart ache with longing.


	10. Chapter 10

Bending the Arrow c 10

 

The bed was soft under them, a welcome relief from the tension of the interview. Long drapes keeping out the heat of the afternoon sun, casting a gentle light over the room. Fresh sheets and blankets smelling of the prairie breeze from hanging out to dry all day.

Jesse’s mind was churning in the quiet. Practically rumbling as he tried to piece together just what he wanted to say. “Hanzo?” he started, not sure if the man was even awake still. Rolling to lay on his side facing his boss, he watched the flicker of muscles as the killer decided whether or not to answer.

His deep voice was muffled by the pillow, not turning to face him. “What is on your mind, cowman?”

Jesse shifted restlessly, tucking his arm under his head. Only to roll onto his back the next moment. “You… said you wanted t’be free,” he started cautiously, watching thin ribbons of sunlight dance on the ceiling. 

“That is how I feel.”

“How… could that happen?”

A long pause, a breeze whispering over old house. It filled in the gaps between them. “I am not sure.” the bed creaked, drawing Hanzo closer to him. Warm breathes gusted on his shoulder, now sharing a pillow. “I do not wish to run away. I do not believe they would ever stop hunting me. Or they would take Genji to bring me back to heel. The Elders have no love of my younger brother.”

His heart sank, chewing on his lip. “You think you could buy your way out?”

“Only with my life or something worse.”

“damn.”

Hanzo shifted closer still, body draped half over his chest, legs tangling. A heavy, tired sigh stirred his hair. “I do not want to forever be dealing in death. The clan has many legitimatebusinesses and connections. it is unfortunate that the Elders have lead the clan deeper into the blackmarket instead of leaving it.”

“But can’t you change that? Aren’t you gonna be in charge someday?” he carefully shifted his arm sliding it to be a pillow for Hanzo. His hand drifting to the newly buzzed side of his head. Stroking against the soft pickles absently. 

“The day may never come. In the absence of my father’s strong hand…” Hanzo trailed off with a sigh.

Jesse brushed his fingertips into Hanzo’s long hair, massaging the tensed muscles in his scalp. “Hanzo,” he wrapped the shorter man under his arm, unfocused mind drifting over the night before. Hanzo on top of him, grinding roughly into his groin. Whispering those dirty things in his ear. Did he really not remember what he had done? did he want to pretend they hadn’t. “what’s gonna happen when we get back to Japan tomorrow?”

“It will be the day after tomorrow technically.”

Jesse rolled his eyes at his boss. “You know what i meant. asshole.”

“Idiot,” Hanzo chuckled, not lifting his head from Jesse’s bicep. His voice reflected none of that mirth, dipping deeper. “I do not know what will happen. I will protect you Jesse,” a hand landed on his chest, over his heart. “One of us deserves to be happy at least.”

The words haunted Jesse through the last evening with his family. They shared laughs and toasts over pot roast and double chocolate brownies. Went through every photo album in the house and on their phones, making fun of each other in equal measures. Trying to fit as much as they could into those last stolen hours.

“C’mon, Hanzo,” Mabel goaded, at the table by the fireplace. Sleeves rolled up past her elbows and braid coiled around her throat. “Those arms look mighty tough.” She flexed, showing off her thick biceps.

Jesse groaned, leaning back in the couch with his ma. He had already turned down the offer to wrestle, preferring to talk with his sweet ma. Hanzo was bantering back, leaping to his feet to pose and flaunt his own muscles. Not quite drunk but not sober by any means. 

“He’s a good man, somewhere in there.”

“Ma?” he turned to her, his big hand gently covering hers. “Hanzo’s a good guy, sure does some bad movies but-“

“Shhh,” a deceptively delicate finger to her lips. “I saw the tattoo when you first came back from Deadlock. I know what type of killer he is.”

Jesse could only stare, eyes flicking to his fake lover arm-wrestling an equally tipsy Mabel. Heart thudding too loud in his ears, making it hard to focus. “Ma, I know what you’re thinking.”

“I have seen the brand on your mechanical arm, Jesse. I am old, not blind,” she tapped the tail of one of the dragons welded into the prosthetic. It ate the tail of it’s brother, even as it’s own tail was devoured. 

Panic set in, squeezing his mother’s hand. “It’s not what you think.”

“I know,” she patted his cheek, tears in her dark, somber eyes. “Please, be careful with your heart, Jaime.”

Pain rolled through him, twisting his face into a grimace. His old name, his First Name, a reminder of everything he had lost. Everything his stupidity and weak-will had ruined, not only for himself but for his family. It was only the second time in over fifteen years his mother had used it.

“I will be, i’m tryin’,” he wiped a tear from his cheek before it could fall. “But Ma, i’m all messed up inside…” his chest was too tight. “i don’t know what i’m even feeling anymore.”

She drew him close, “I know, I know baby,” strong arms keeping him safe, for just a moment out of time. “Just stay in one piece, till we can meet again.”

“I’ll try ma,” Jesse shivered, dead eye a reminder of what he had already lost.

 

-

 

The airport was packed, endless crowds pouring in and breaking up like a river. Humanity crushing in on all sides. Trying to swept the little huddle away and scatter them. It was too hot, sun beating down on the glass ceiling. Reeking bodies and greasy food thick in the air along with voices of all tongues and dialects.

Their luggage already checked, freeing them to say their last goodbyes. A tense emptiness stringing between them, no one wanting to be the first to say farewell. “Its been… a real pleasure seeing you again,” Jesse found the heart to smile, stooping to give his mother one last long hug.

“Nice meetin’ ya, Hanzo,” Mabel tipped her hat with a finger, mouth a stern line. 

“I enjoyed our time together,” Hanzo bowed to the two of them.

Desperate, too long hugs passed between the McCree family. Whispered good byes and I love you and words of caution. Last parting jokes and thumps on the back joined soft kisses on foreheads and they were finally waking to the security checkin.

Jesse sighed, heart sinking into his stomach. He would miss them both so much, it was a physical weight on his shoulders.

“Remember to stay calm,” Hanzo murmured against his ear, taking his flesh hand in his. His prosthetic stored in the belly of the plane already. His robotic eye sealed from probing scanners with a patch of specialized synthetic flesh and eyepatch. Long serape covering his missing arm, itchy and too hot until they were boarded. The first class seats chilly with ac blasting and glasses of champagne bubbling away already.

Sharing a look, they raised their glasses. “To a safe flight,” Jesse chuckled, the fear already winding tight in his guts.

“To a safe homecoming.”

 

—

 

The flight was arduous. Delays and layovers, stretching the journey out to a full 24 hours. Stormy weather leaving Jesse’s stomach empty and aching. Pasty skin and shaking, the man struggled to stay on his feet as they walked down the terminal. Hanzo carrying both their bags. He was dressed to the nines in a three piece suit. 

Jesse dragged himself along in jeans and a tattered serape, his nice clothes discarded over india after a particularly rough patch. The stink of vomit still clinging to his mouth no matter how many times he had rinsed it.

“Thanks, Hanners,” he took the offered bottle of water, not sure how they had gotten from the terminal and passed security. The ground was solid under his feet finally. Some of the fog clearing from the front of his mind.

“You did very well, on the plane Jesse,” Hanzo urged him to sit on a nearby bench. He went with a happy sigh. “Keep watch while i get your arm out.”

“Yessir,” he nodded, moistening his throat with a deep draw of water. He swished it around, trying to get rid of the lingering bitterness. Eyes sweeping from side to side, watching the crowds swirling back and forth. The plane had gotten in far later than scheduled, buying them some time. The paparazzi not alerted to their arrival just yet.

Hanzo’s private driver had been called as soon as they landed. Hopefully the car would get to them before the reporters. He didn’t see anyone suspicious, just other tired grungy travelers. A fair share of tourists, languages tangling together in a chaotic mix. It was almost comforting, being back in the hustle. 

“Looks clear,” he rubbed the sore puffy skin of his left arm. Flying had made it swell, tender without the protection of the prosthetic.

“Scoot over here,” Hanzo ordered, duffle bag in his lap. 

Jesse eased close, raising his serape some. Hanzo tossed it around his shoulders, letting the front fall to shield them. “Do you need the numbing gel?”

“Yeah, it’s feeling raw.”

The faint click of a cap popping off was swallowed up by the bustle. Jesse braced for the cold, hating this part. When Hanzo’s hand lightly brushed over the end, they gel was warm and comforting. He sighed with relief, looking down at the covered joining of their bodies. The killer’s hands lightly cupped the end of his arm. They were so warm, tenderly spreading the heated liquid. Numbing relief eased into his flesh and he melted into it. 

Eyes closing with a deep sigh. Hanzo’s hands working higher on his arm, kneading over his bicep. “That feels good,” and things never felt good on his left arm, tolerable at best. “Thanks, for doing this. Know it’s not the most…” he trailed off, not wanting to put his insecurities into words.

“You’re an idiot,” Hanzo sighed, rubbing over the end of his arm with the numbing gel. “Let’s just get you put back together.”

“Right as always.”

They shared a chuckle, eyes meeting for a long moment. “Ready?”

“Yup,” Jesse looked over the crowds one more time, “looks clear for now.”

Hanzo eased the mechanical arm from the duffle bag in his lap to Jesse’s arm under the serape. He bit his lip, taking a long deep breath.

“One, two, three,” Hanzo pressed the end of the arm into Jesse’s bicep.

Pain shot up his arm and down his spine, vision going dark as he fought down a scream. Thousands of nerves reconnecting like needles digging into the flesh. His hand falling to Hanzo’s thigh, gripping hard enough to leave bruises as he rode the surge of pain out.

“Fuck,” tears sparked in his remaining eye, blinking hard to keep them back. “Fuck that always hurts.”

“We will have to talk to the medical engineer. Perhaps there is something they can do to ease the transitions.”

“That’d be good,” he curled forward, breathing carefully to keep the nausea down.

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah.”

The serape covered the scratched and dinged up mechanical arm, his flesh hand tangled with Hanzo’s. He cracked his robotic fingers, at ease now that he was mostly whole again. They moved through the thinning crowds. It was the middle of the night, cold thick air rolling over them. The sidewalk outside the airport dimly lit. 

“Got a light?”

“Don’t smoke here.”

“Why not?”

Hanzo pointed to the no smoking sign. “This is a public area, Jesse. Put the nicotine patch on.”

He scratched at the raw skin from the last patch. He had been using them the long trip to Japan. They weren’t as good as a real cigarillo. “You gonna let me smoke when we get back to your place?”

“On the balcony.”

“Alright.” He slapped the fresh patch Hanzo offered onto his arm. Falling back into silence as cars came and went. The other people around them slowly leaving with families and taxies or heading off to the bus station. Through their linked arms, he felt the static buzz of the dragons. Restlessly coiling beneath his fake lovers skin. “Feeling alright?”

“Yes.”

“Sure? The dragons are agitated.”

“ah… I forget you can sense them now.”

“Makes fooling me harder, doesn’t it,” he smirked, brushing his thumb in slow circles over the killer’s hand. “Can finally read you.”

“Hmm,” he didn’t look up, eyes scanning the cars steadily streaming by. The dragons rippled against his fingers. He could feel them, testing the barrier between their skin. He pulled away, not wanting to repeat the strange experience. It had been something so primal and raw, buzzing with energy that connected him to something bigger.

A long black sedan pulled up in front of them.

“Let’s go home.”

 

—

 

The ride lulled him, head falling back. A steady rumble of the engine and road easing some of the tension in his guts. Hanzo was asleep in the seat next to him, slumped against the window. They were both looking forward to getting into familiar beds and finally resting.

The dark tinted windows kept out the bright screens and the shine from the massive city. Rumble of the powerful engine lulling him, coaxing him to close his good eye. They could worry about breaking Hanzo free of the shimada empire later, once they were rested. once things were back to normal.

_Our Jesse,_ the words startled Jesse fully awake. A long blue dragon was coiled in his lap, paws braced on his chest. Long whiskers swayed in a unfelt breeze. _you are ours,_ a claw rose and he pressed back in the seat. Razor sharp talon coming to rest on the tip of his nose, threatening destruction.

_i don’t know what you want me t’do,_ he thought hard at the creature, wondering where the second dragon was. There was just this one, the slightly smaller of the two. Burning eyes tracked him, face coming closer and closer. He tensed, afraid of what the deadly spirit might do to him. A burning energy searing his eyebrows, hot on his face.

Hanzo woke with a grunt, jolting up in his seat. The second dragon oozing into he air from his skin, spiraling around his head. “Where are we?” he looked out of the tinted window, the city glittering around them.

“I dun know,” Jesse rubbed his face, the static and heat from the dragons making his skin itch. “Gotta be near the apartment by now.” he tried looking out his own window, not recognizing anything. There was a noodle place and what might have been an arcade.

Hard lines appeared on the killer’s face, etched around his mouth and between his eyes. “Jesse, do you have peacekeeper?”

“What?” he caught the charge in the air, hair on the back of his neck prickling. The gun was stowed in the bag at his feet, the seventh peacekeeper. His last of the series, his baby. He casually nudged the backpack with his foot, feeling the comforting weight. “She’s with me.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“We are at the Shimada Castle.”

 

-

 

Guards met them at the gate, massive doors towering overtime by at least 30 feet. The ancient carved wood gleaming pale in the moonlight. The dragons continued their never ceasing fight, devouring each other in a frenzy.

Japanese flowed between them and his boss, formal to the extreme. He picked that up at least and they fell in step with the four men. They were dressed in the finest of suits, everything about them painfully uniformed from their shoes to their hair styles. Perfectly tailor clothes couldn’t hide the outline of guns and knives tucked discreetly around their persons.

The gates opened and they walked quietly into the courtyard. The cherry trees were starting to bud, silhouetted against the night sky. Moon fat and golden above the sand garden. He had been here before. But only once, when his debt had been declared. 

A shudder overcame him and he unconsciously held his left arm. The twin dragons raised on the metal, marking it and him as property of the Shimada Clan. He hoped that maybe there was a good reason they had been called to the clan. Maybe they had heard of him risking his life and saving their precious puppet. This could all be to just remove the welded plate and set him free.

The idea made him laugh bitterly.

“Do not speak, when we are in the presence of the elders.”

“I know.” 

They walked in silence, through the long beautiful halls. Unable to appreciate it with the threat of what was to come. 

The dragons wavered around them, streams of mist in the moonlight. Static giving the air a metallic taste, coating his throat. The creak of a step sending tension rolling down his spine, nerve ends sparking in anticipation. They were nearing the main hall. 

“Be calm,” Hanzo murmured, soft and low. Just for his ears as they began to climb the zigzag steps to the open hall. The ceiling towering above them, standing pillars of light casting long shadows back.

Hanzo’s hand brushed along his flesh one, lingering for just a moment. Pinkies nudging as the turned the final step, for one singular heartbeat, entwining. 

A guard grabbed his left arm, pulling him away. He resisted, rooting to the spot out of instinct. Hanzo shot him a look and he remembered to obey. He went with the guard, guided to the far side of the room. The balcony to his left, a fresh breeze cool on his face. Four guards surrounded him, patting him down. They pulled out peacekeeper and undid his ammunitions belt. They disappeared in the arms of a traditionally dressed japanese woman. The whites of her eyes showing, even if her step was smooth as glass.

A tapestry hung in front of him to the right, not knowing what it said. Three swords were displayed at it’s base, gleaming with hints of blue and green. He recognized the mark of the dragons, a haze seeming to cling to their sheathes. Power, barely suppressed within the steel. He felt the weight of them agains this chest, pressing him away and drawing him near.

There was something besides the throbbing of the blue dragons.

Genji’s green was still here, locked inside the sword. Some small part of him still bound to his familial home.

Hanzo knelt in the middle of the room, head bowed before the tapestry. The overhead light was harsh on his features, casting his face in deep shadow. Every line of his body a contest between rigid tension and practiced grace.

The dragons were no where to be seen.

They waited in silence, nothing but the chirp of nighttime insects breaking up the thick atmosphere. 

Jesse’s legs were going to sleep, sitting tailor position on the hardwood. The guards were kneeling, frozen in place. There was no sign they lived except for their breathing.

He itched inside his skin. Knowing they ere being played with, tormented and humbled by the wait. He hated it. At least Deadlock had just come out and tried to kill him.

Rubbing his hand over his ruined eye was a good reminder to keep his temper. They weren’t about to be murdered. Probably chastised and at the worst lashed, he could handle that without breaking. Temper held in check, too tired and dehydrated to let his anger get the best of him. 

He took the chance to rest, lowering his chin to his chest and wrapping the serape tighter around him. he slumped forward, finding a comfortable enough position and closed his eyes. It was time the gather the scattered edges of himself.

It was almost dawn when the elders appeared.

The first tendrils of dawn crawling over the horizon. A gray and stormy day about to awake. It smelled like rain. And incense, the deep rich scent seeping to him before the servants appeared around the corner. They walked with the practice grace of people living in constant fear, every movement schooled and practiced.

Jesse had met the elders before, just briefly. He had not been permitted to know their names or identities. They were part of the old blood of the clan. They had once been Sojiro’s most trusted advisors and now controlled his son with an iron fist.

It was hard to imagine, that the man who had trained Hanzo into the finest of killing machines, had also named Genji Sparrow and given him flight.

The guards bowed from their kneeling position, deeply and with grave respect. The seven figures stood before them, regal and elegant. they towered over everyone. A hand grabbed the back of his neck and shoved him down. His head just above the floor, haunches coming up slightly. He knew better than the growl out curses, waiting for permission to look up. 

He was held down, barely enough room to shift his head to the side. Watching Hanzo slowly rise from his own low bow. Every line of his body cut from stone. Gone was the laughter and giddiness he had seen on the farm. The light extinguished from his eyes, nothing that was real making it to the surface.

The elders knelt on cushions laid out by the servants with care. White and gray hair blurring in the strong yellow light from above. The lanterns long since exchanging candles for electric. they were unassuming in appearance, handsome and plain all represented. Three were in traditional Japanese robes, the rest in luxurious western brands.

Jesse was willing to bet they outfits cost more than his life. He would have been correct. 

The leader of the group was addressing Hanzo, flowing words like a river. He picked up some, trying to piece together just how much shit they were in. It felt like a lot, tension rolling through his empty gut. 

“Thank you for allowing me to speak in English,” Hanzo bowed slightly, knuckles white. “We apologize deeply, for the lack of communication.” A heartbeat’s pause. “And the stress it has put on the clan. For my lack of…finesse… while handling the media around our ruse of courtship.”

Jesse nodded, following up quickly. “I am very, very sorry, misters, misses,” he was allowed to sit back up finally. “If I, uh,” he glanced at Hanzo. wondering if the elders knew he was gay. “embarrassed Hanzo, being so…”

“Silence,” The leader delicately sniffed at the air. Her dark brows drawn sharply down. “You will not speak again.” He ducked his head, kicking himself. “Hanzo, we are well aware of the situation.” The elders nodded in agreement. “And the danger that you have brought to the clan by involving yourself in the Deadlock Gang’s destruction. It has been made clear that this man,” her eyes cut him, “is a danger not only to you but to the clan and the shimada empire.”

“You do not understand,” Hanzo half rose from his crouch, furyon his face. Just for a moment, just the flicker of rage and then the serene mask was back in place. “Forgive me, Elder,” he bowed his head, “Please let me explain.”

“There is no need for explanation. This filth as taken advantage of your kind nature. It is the same as with your fool of a brother. Your father allowed him weakness and he became weak.”

Pain shot through his jaw, teeth clenched so hard they might break. Words crashing against the tongue, surging like an ocean’s tide.

“He should be handled better.” A new speaker, a squat elder man with gold rings on his fingers. “He has even damaged the Shimada’s property.”

“To save my life!” Hanzo’s voice cracked in the air, booming off the stark walls. “He risked his own being, his own life to come back to save me. He was free of the compound and he chose to return for me. He almost died, he would have died if not for-“

“Hanzo,” the word softly spoken word brought the man to heel like a whip. “You will control yourself. We will not allow any weakness in you.”

Jesse’s heart pounded in his ears, blood nearing a boil. He restrained by an inch, a feral growl bubbling in his chest. The thrum of ancient power playing his veins. Blue light slivering over his skin, curling under the protective shield of her serape. Dragons awake, one with him, the other bound to Hanzo.

“What do you feel for the desert trash?” A small fragile looking woman on the far end asked, long silver hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. It seemed to stretch the papery skin of her face back.

“It is irrelevant,” the leader delicately folded her hands on her legs. “He has become a liability to the clan.”

“I am in agreement.”

“I as well.”

“You cannot,” Hanzo was on his feet, shoulders shaking. The guards were on their feet the next moment. the click of a gun safety just barely heard. The man on this left had a pistol ready to kill. “He has been marked by the dragon!”

A gasp rippled through the elders and guards, one long heartbeat of staggered silence.

“Impossible!”

Jesse rose to his feet, towering over the nearest guard. Heart trying to rip out of his chest. “It’s true,” his eyes found Hanzo across the room. They shared at nod.

“He summoned them to free me from the Deadlock Gang. They chose him.”

“He cannot join the clan.” The cold voice brought them down, the leader still quite and in control. Hands clenched in her lap. “He has become too much of a liability, Hanzo.”

“The dragons have chosen him. It is tradition to welcome the partner dragon into the fold. He belongs with me.” 

Jesse’s heart did a painful twist, panic and joy a tornado in his core. “Hanzo…” the understanding beginning to fall over him. “Do you mean…?”

“Silence!” Pain stabbed into his head and he was knocked to the floor. pistol whipped, the worlds swam. A knee in his back crushed the air out of him.

“Hanzo Shimada,” the leader spoke, her voice cool and calm. Holding everyone present by the throat. “You have been comprised.” The knee dug harder into his back, vision blurring as he struggled to get enough air. The coldness in the room thick, dread pooling in his stomach. “There is only one solution.” the elders shared a long look. Slowly, one by one, they nodded their consent.

Jesse started struggling, the cold press of a gun barrel keeping him down. It rested at the tender spot just behind his ear. Hanzo’s voice lost in his panic, reaching out for anything that could help him.

Peacekeeper smuggled in his cowboy boot wrapped in gauze. Too far away before the gun would go off. The dragons no where to be seen. He could maybe block the first shot with his mechanical arm if he was fast enough.

“Hanzo, eldest song of the Shimada Clan,” the chilled command throbbing in the room, bringing them all toa charged quiet. “Pick up your sword and fulfill your duty to protect the clan. You must obey. You must uphold your father’s honor.”

Hanzo’s gaze went through him, a thousand miles away. Vacant except for the tears threatening to fall. “Hanzo…No,” he gasped, watching his friend walk slowly to the swords. He picked the longer up, holding it in front of him.

“I must,” the elders nodded to the assassin’s words. Tears flowed down his cheeks, dripping from the end of his beard. “I am sorry, Jesse.”

The gun disappeared from the back of his head and he was hauled to his feet. Stumbling from numb legs, he tried to catch his bearings. Hanzo approached at a measured pace. The blade coming free with a musical note.

“Hanzo, what are you doing?” Jesse rolled his weight to the balls of his feet, eye scanning the exits. Could he make it to the balcony? The rock was scalable. Guards backing away from him. No shield to be used. “You don’t have to do this.” Desperate, blindly reaching for something to shake the man free. “You can chose to be free too.”

The elders watched in silence. Eyes hot and vile on his skin, a slithering kind of evil. It coiled around his throat.

“I will not be weak. I will not allow you to break me.” Hanzo stepped towards him, measured deadly grace. 

“Hanzo, baby,” he raised his hands in plea, backing away. “Remember the good times we’ve had? All those nights drinking and smoking and talking the night away? When you were so sick you could barely stand and we watched three seasons of the Real Housewives?” He bumped into a guard blocking the entrance to the balcony. The man shoved him roughly forward and he scrambled, rolling diagonally away from him and Hanzo. “Remember, remember when we lay together after deadlock and everything felt alright for once?”

The blade leveled at his chest. Hanzo’s eyes somewhere above his head. “You will bring shame to the clan. I cannot have you, Jesse McCree.” The sword drew back, aimed directly at his heart. 

Jesse shifted, trying to keep distance between himself and the killer. “Hanzo, fuck the clan, Hanzo we can run, we could just run away.”

“I must be strong of the clan. It is what my father would have wanted.”

The edge of the stairs caught his back, realizing with horror he had been expertly backed into a corner. “Hanzo, no,” his hands curled into fists, everything within him screaming. This was the end. This was how it would all fall apart.

Never trust a killer.

They never kept their promises.

His poor ma would be so heartbroken.

“I am sorry, Jesse McCree. You will be free now…”

The sword plunged into his chest, so smooth the pain didn’t hit him at first. Blood gurglinginto a pierce lung. Hanzo’s figure blurring at the edges, streaks of color and shadow. A soft smile daring to break the mask, swaying in his mind.

His knees gave, strength pouring out like water. Hanzo stepped closer, holding his head to his chest. “W-why?” his mouth was too wet, metallic and bitter. 

“It's the only way.” Hanzo tilted his face up, a tear fell on his cheek. Burning a molten trail until it disappeared in his beard. 

“Fuck you,” his breath dragged, hands fisting in Hanzo’s shirt. Holding himself up by sheer force of will. Blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re… a fucking…coward. I… I loved you.”

“I know…”

His mouth was sealed with a kiss, blood and salt on his tongue.

"it's the only way, Jesse... forgive me."

The last thing he knew, the face of his killer and the sound of heartbreak.

 

** End of Part One. **

** Part Two will start as Chapter 11 on Saturday, June 10 **


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two is here!
> 
> Thank you for the lovely and talented Swarm! for editing and beta'ing this chapter. I think it is much stronger for it and has become one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy it too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some implications of animal abuse in this chapter and animal peril. Just a heads up!

**Part Two - Faster than a Bullet**

 

Jesse gasped awake, six weeks later, in a strange hospital bed. Fucking ugly, his first thought upon consciousness. The painting glared at him from the end of the bed. A terrible rendition of a dog among flowers, or was it a cat? There was no way of telling.

He squinted at it with his good eye.

His left felt strange, empty. He raised a hand, tugging on the tubes and wires running from the end of his bicep. The mechanical prosthetic sat on a chair beside his bed. He switched hands, IV following the movement to feel where his eye had been. It was clean and healed, a glass orb replacing the burned out mechanical one. 

There was a tube down his throat and air pumped into his nose.

The instinct to rip them out surged, mind waking up. Where was he? How had he ended up here? He knew not to give in to it. Looking down at the bed, finding the button to call the nurse.

There were no balloons or cards on the bedside table. No signs someone had been sitting at his side, waiting for him to wake up.

A single vase stood on the windowsill. The flowers fresh and lovely in the sun, purple hyacinths. He wondered what they might mean, something flickering in his drug-hazed memory.

“Mr. Morricone, you’re awake.” The nurse was at his side. When had she gotten there? The name didn’t feel right, prickling at the back of his throat but he couldn’t figure out why. “This is wonderful news. We weren’t planning on bringing you to consciousness for another week or so.” She pulled out a holo-chart, tapping through rapidly. “Your vitals are surprisingly good. I will get the doctor.” 

He lay back in the hospital bed, exhausted just from being awake, but not in pain. There was nothing but weakness and something tight in his chest. He felt it carefully, flesh fingers exploring the sunken planes of his chest. There was a line of scar tissue, still tender to the touch. It felt like he’d been kicked by a horse repeatedly at some point.

Course he would have been dumb enough to get himself nearly killed doing something or other. He tried to remember what he had been doing before he woke up. Bits and pieces hovered just out of reach.

The steady drip of a special blend of drugs eased him back into oblivion. It was not the time for him to be awake yet. Things were still being set into place.

 

—

 

His dreams tangled on themselves, smoke and streams of light. A voice in the endless dark, whispering again and again. I'm sorry, please forgive me. He knew the sound and twisted towards it in the nothingness. He could smell overheated metal and feel static on his skin as if lightning was about to strike.

The fog lifted slowly, at a deliberate, measured rate. The doctors were careful with him, easing Jesse back to consciousness. Eight weeks after he had been delivered in a freeze tank, held at the very brink of death while things had been put into order for him. 

Bit by bit, he had been dragged back from the edge. It was time for him to start his new life.

The light was soft on his eyelids, a warmth coaxing them to open. The ceiling had pictures of wide open spaces and peachy sunsets, it made him smile. It lingered as he took in the room, machines humming and the distant noise of a hospital running outside the door.

The flowers on the windowsill had been replaced. They were daffodils with golden petals. 

"Joel, how are you feeling?" A lightly accented voice drew his attention back to the doctor. She was a small woman with fluffy blonde hair and the face of a verified angel. “I am Doctor Ziegler. It is good to see you awake.”

“Good, I think at least.” He reached up, running his flesh hand through his hair. It was so long, practically past his shoulders. It didn’t feel right, having so much hair. “How long… was I out for?

“Ah, I see,” the doctor tapped the chart. “Nurse Green mentioned you were having some memory issues?”

“I… reckon so. Can’t rightly remember who I am… Who has been giving me flowers?”

“They have been delivered every three days,” she glanced at the holo-board. “I can have the front desk check. I am more concerned with your memory.”

“Guess I don’t really…,” he looked down at his hands. The mechanical one was completely blank, not a manufacturer’s logo or serial number. There were hints it might have been used, refurbished maybe. When had they reattached it? “Where am I?” his flesh fingers ran over the smooth plate and intricately twined metal over his elbow. 

The afternoon blurred, finding out he was in Montana. His name was Joel Morricone, he had a small farm outside of town raising cattle. His family had been notified that he’d finally woken up but they were in Florida. 

Doctor Ziegler didn’t want him making any calls until he was fully off the sedation but allowed him to have his phone, fully charged and ready to go. He looked through the contacts as he ate surprisingly good spaghetti with a side of bread and pudding for dessert.

A constant buzz in his head, low static like an old radio, kept him company in the days that followed. It slowly cleared, enough for him to get curious and fidgety. Thankfully, he had his phone and he tried to catch up on what he’d missed. Eight weeks spent in a hospital under sedation while they’d stitched him together and healed him up.

The world was going on just fine without him. A new peace agreement between the States and Mexico renewed efforts in nanobot technology and typical celebrity scandals. He even found an article about his accident in what he’d been told was his hometown paper. 

A chuckle bubbled out, hurting his chest just a bit. “Course I got myself bucked off a horse.” Unfortunately for him, it had been straight into a tree and he’d impaled himself. Barely made the 911 call before passing out.

His life unfolding through his phone, realizing he had just moved to Montana before the accident. Friends and family left far behind in different parts of the country. 

“Joel, your ride home is here. Are you ready to go?” Nurse Green asked from the doorway, a wheelchair in front of her.

He nodded. “Is the wheelchair really necessary?”

“I’m afraid so, love.” She gave him a soft motherly smile as she helped him from the bed to the chair. “Just in case you get dizzy.”

She wheeled him out of the room, his bag in his lap. It had what little had been brought to the hospital with him. Wallet, phone, keys, and some extra clothes. His life bundled up in a neat package.

The halls were bright and airy, a floral scent not quite masking the smell of antiseptic. Bustling with nurses and patients of all different ages, full of life despite the seriousness. They passed an open room with a fountain in the middle, lavish tables spread out with board games and hospital-branded laptops.

“How… did I pay for this?” 

The nurse hummed, pushing him steadily through the hospital to the front desk. Bright beautiful sunlight and fresh air just a few dozen feet away. He could barely wait to feel it on his skin after all this time.

“Joel Morricone, checking out.”

“I see, he’s all set. I just need his signature. Keith is waiting in the van to take him home.”

“Excuse me, miss,” he tried to look over the counter. She handed the digital pad to the nurse who then gave it to him. “So, how did I pay for this?”

The receptionist clicked away on the keyboard, brows furrowing suddenly. “It was taken care of by an anonymous donor.”

“What?” He shifted in the chair, feet in a pair of too-new cowboy boots. They didn't feel broken in. “What do ya mean someone just took care of it?”

“That is what is in the file. What your insurance didn’t cover, someone paid for in cash.”

“Shit, really? Best news I’ve heard in years, I think at least,” he gave her his best smile, pleased when she blushed. “Be sad to leave all these pretty ladies and go back to the farm.”

There was a van ready to take him home, discharged with several bottles of prescription pills for pain and to help his memory. He never did find out who had been sending him flowers.

 

—

 

Keith helped him out of the van and up the front porch to his house. It didn't seem familiar at all but if he’d just moved in, maybe it wouldn’t. The cane clicked softly on the wide front porch. “Thanks again,” he turned to give the transporter a tip or something but the hulk of a man was already getting into the van.

Joel shrugged, knowing the staff had to be busy. “Well… welcome home,” he opened the door to his house. The dull scent of dust and stagnant air met him and he crinkled his nose. It definitely smelled like it had been empty for two months, and there were still moving boxes scattered around the front room.

He’d been told a few farmhands had been hired by his family to take care of the herd of cattle and horses. The low mooing was soothing on the late afternoon breeze and it did remind him of home.

Weeks of laying in bed had taken their toll. His strength ran out in the living room and he sunk to the couch. Surprisingly comfortable, he tucked himself in with a red blanket and drifted off.

Shivers woke him hours later, darkness had fallen over his little bit of heaven. “Guess I didn’t turn the heater on before I went and got myself nearly killed,” he huffed, shuffling around in the dark with his cane. Finding his way down a long hall with his phone out for a flashlight.

He didn’t find the thermostat but he did find his bedroom. Mostly unpacked at least and several large blankets already spread out for him. He fell into them with a smile, the walk had been draining.

 

—

 

He stared at his closet, hands on his hips. “What the fuck was wrong with me?” He rifled through a lurid collection of tacky western shirts with pearl snaps, leather vests, and Wrangler jeans. There was one shirt in particular that made his guts crawl. Baby blue button down with dozens of small yellow lassos, tan cowboy hats, and spur motifs. 

If he had looked up “bad cowboy costumes” he was pretty sure this is what he would find first. It was kinda charming though, in its own weird way. He’d never wear it though, shoving it to the back and picking out a nice blue plaid. Some basic jeans went into the pile on his arm and he dug around for some underwear.

“I really got a western thing,” he chuckled, holding up a pair of boxer briefs with cacti all over them, ‘I’ve got a prickly pair’ written in block letters over the ass. It was better than hospital gowns, no matter how tacky his sense of fashion was.

The shower eased over him, washing some of the sticky hospital feeling off. Body feeling strange under his hands, too thin and weak. He’d been a beefcake before the accident, that felt right. Imagining thick biceps and sturdy thighs in place of the scrawny limbs he had now. He was going to fix that, soon as he could.

 

—-

 

The pantry was fully stocked, all his favorite foods lined up proudly. He whistled, eyes big and bright. There was nothing that would taste as good as waffles with maple syrup and lots of butter. He needed to be unhealthy, at least for this morning, and he set to work. It was easy, even if it took a while to find a skillet and mixing bowl and whisk. A small radio on the sill above the sink pumping in some smooth R & B, fit to make his hips sway. 

A coffee pot had his favorite blend, light roast with a vanilla undertone. The smell invigorated him, setting the mood for a bright and happy start to his new life. He even had a new favorite mug. 

“Not new,” he reminded himself, coffee filling up a mug shaped like a cowboy boot. Cream and sugar and he was whistling on his way to do the chores.

The notes in his phone helped him find his way. Running through the checklist of a typical day, he fed the cows corn and grains, checked the water tank in the horse paddock. His gelding didn’t come up to the fence, watching him from across the small field.

A ripple of apprehension radiated through his chest. _why’d you buck me off?_ he studied the work horse, knowing his name was Sundance from his phone. What had spooked his trusted steed enough to throw him? Not just a little ways but hard, straight into a tree. It unnerved him, staring his fear in the face. His arms rested on the top rung of the fence, cane leaning assuaging the post. He hadn’t needed it much.

He hated being afraid. He would get back in the saddle and ride again. Squaring his shoulders, he unlatched the gate. The grey gelding raised his head expectantly. Peaceful brown eyes followed him into the barn to get the tack. Joel took his time, arms shaking at the weight of the saddle. 

Body tense, he hoisted it up onto the geldings back. Waiting for a sign of aggression, he studied the creature. soft ears twitched to track him, obediently standing still. Sundance had been well trained and little by little, his anxiety faded. 

No flashbacks or terror came as he tightened the girth and put his foot in the stirrup. Sundance shifted slightly before calming. “That’s it, no hard feelings,” he gently patted the horse’s neck. Bouncing on the foot still on the ground, he worked up the momentum to push off and swing his leg over. Landing in the saddle harder than he meant to. It felt good under him, polished leather and gracefully sculpted shape cupping him just right. The horn rose proudly in front of him, a swirling J.M. stamped into it.

“Course I would have a monogramed saddle,” he rolled his eyes, wondering just what type of fool he’d been before the knock to the head. “Ready to get back to work, Sunny?”

The horse wuffled softly and broke into an easy walk. Joel felt the temptation to push the horse into a run but by the time they were into the main pasture, his core and back were already starting to burn. 

It would take time and care, to get back to peak shape. He kept the ride short, only going far enough to check the cow’s water in the stock tank. The windmill creaking gently with the strong breeze. A happy healthy herd and a dream bit of land all laid out and waiting for him.

It all just felt so…

Perfect.

 

 

\--

 

By noon he was exhausted and wobbling on his feet. His gelding unsaddled and wiped down, turned out to pasture to enjoy himself. Legs shaking like a newborn lamb, he barely made it to the house before they collapsed.

Everything hurt. Muscles screaming at the sudden intense use. Head swimming and dizzy to the point of nausea. The tacky country chicken statuette on the entry table mocking him with beady little eyes. 

Panting breaths strained his chest, feeling too tight. All he could do was lay and wait to get his strength back. Recovery was going to take longer than he wanted. 

“Stupid chicken,” he glared at the little statue. Big puffy thigh feathers and scrawny ankles. The longer he watched it, the more his heart softened. There was something almost charming about it. Regal rooster about to peck and claw its way to freedom.

It wasn’t all that bad.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed the number marked “Mom.” He’d been putting off talking to his mother so far, not wanting to have the awkward conversation about his memory loss. It went to voicemail.

“You've reached Mallory, please leave a message and I'll get back to you, deary!”

He closed his eyes, heart sinking into his stomach. 

No part of him recognized his mother’s voice.

 

—

 

It haunted him as slow days turned into weeks. Taking it one step at a time, beginning to feel the isolation of the farm. He was an hour away from the nearest grocery store. It made for lonely days, time divided between taking care of the ranch and doing gentle yoga. His doctor recommended it to help with his recovery. Apparently, it was good for his mind as well.

He still wasn’t remembering what his life had been like before the accident. 

“Nothing,” he confirmed with Doctor Ziegler. “Still feel like I just woke up in a new place three months ago.”

The phone held between his head and shoulder, he flipped a burger. This far out, the line held a thick syrup of static. 

“Do not worry about it, Mr. Morricone,” her sweet accented voice didn’t comfort him much. “It will take time. If you wish, I can up the dosage on the Razadyne. It may help your memory and lessen the confusion you’ve been feeling.”

He sighed, resting a hip on the counter. Apron straining over his muscled chest, feeling more like himself at least. “Not feeling much confusion, just like… things don’t feel quite right.”

“I would not concern yourself. It is common to have a feeling of disconnection after a traumatic event. Give it time. If you are not feeling better in six months, please come visit me again. In the meantime, make sure you are taking the Razadyne every night. Do not miss a dose.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t news he wanted to hear but at least he wasn’t about to drop dead. 

“Keep in touch, Mr. Morricone.”

“Will do, doc,” he ended the call and got back to cooking dinner for one.

He made sure to actually take the meds before getting into bed this time. 

 

 

 

—

 

Pain shot through his foot, startling him awake with a shout. The endless sky above him and cold wet grass below. “Fuck, fucking shit,” he wheeled around, desperately searching for a landmark. It was nothing but prairie as far as he could see. A shudder crawled down his spine, feet bleeding, freezing and damp from the rain.

He was soaked to the skin, shivering in boxer briefs and an old t-shirt. Nausea rolled in his guts, bending him over. Heaving unsteady breaths, a wave of dizziness sending him to his hands and knees.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, alone in the middle of the night. Tired and disoriented and heaving his guts out till there was nothing left in his system.

Slumping to the cold wet grass, he curled in on himself to conserve heat. Lonesome howls rising in the distance, coyotes singing. A low moo came from his right in response, the herd of cows just over the crest of the hill.

They would offer more safety than sleeping here alone and he dragged himself to one of the sweeter tempered cows for warmth. Ruby huffed in her sleep, waking only enough to look him over with big soft brown eyes. She rested her head down and Joel curled up against her sturdy side. The heat radiating through his iced bones, spending the rest of the night with a happy cow.

The walk back feeling longer than it should have, leaving a spotty trail of blood behind. Following the cows to a water tank, he had the bearings he needed to find his way home. It was a long, damp slog, something about it familiar but not quite. Had he done this in another lifetime, spending long days and nights cold, wet, and uncomfortable?

He missed the weight of a six-shooter revolver on his thigh.

The longing brought him up short on the steps of his porch. Why would he want a gun more than anything right now? All a ranch needed was a rifle or maybe a pistol, not the kind of peacekeeper he wanted.

It was an itch he couldn’t scratch. He had several of those going now.

 

—

 

Long summer days of peace followed, nothing but the sunshine and fresh air. A simple quiet life of tending to his animals and making his new home feel like a home. No matter what he did to redecorate and spruce up the place, it wasn’t anything he could buy that finally made if feel like home.

Joel whistled, window down and radio blaring. Some old-fashioned song that he didn’t know the words to. It didn’t matter, heart happy and full. The long dirt road toward town billowing up behind him in thick clouds. 

Slowing down to make a turn onto the main road, movement caught his eye. In the field, there were two bright flashes of gold. The sound of yelps and frantic barking confirming it was two dogs. Not that unusual in the country, for people to dump unwanted pets to fend for themselves. A cruel practice that got his blood boiling.

Who could take a living creature and set them out to starve to death or get turned into prey once they were weak enough?

A horn behind him reminded him he was on the road. He waved the other dusty truck around before pulling off into the ditch. There wasn’t much he could do in this world but he could at least get these two dogs to the Humane Society. 

He moved quietly, feeling at ease half crouched in the tall prairie grass. Cows milling by a creek a few hundred feet away. The dogs were bright flickers of gold, tumbling over something. “Easy there girl,” he kept his voice low and soft, drawl pulling out. The bigger of the two golden retriever mutts turned toward him. 

Blood on her snout and a chunk missing from her ear, her eyes were intelligent but dulled. Hunger smoldering in the large brown eyes and Joel eased to a standstill. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not gonna hurt you or your lil sis,” he promised, hands low and open.

There was beef jerky in his pocket as well as half a sandwich he was meaning to get around to. Pulling it out, he picked out the ham and tossed it toward the two dogs. They fell on it in an instant, snarling and barking in excitement. He let them eat in peace, throwing the jerky for them as well.

He didn’t approach them, sitting down in the grass. Sunshine bright and blue sky promising it was going to continue to be a perfect day. A lazy sliver of his attention focused on the snuffling and wuffing not far away and steadily getting closer.

A smile began as the two came closer, not paying them any attention. His fingers were busy twirling a strand of grass, waiting, until a cold wet nose bumped into his thigh. The bigger of the two sniffing him up and down his leg and arm. All the way down to his hand. He held his breath, letting her do her investigation in peace.

Whatever she smelled seemed to please the mutt and she nudged her head under his palm. “That’s a good girl,” he soothed, gently petting the bony top of her skull. “You’re a right old sweetheart, aren’t you, baby?” Cooing to her and her sister, he worked his hand down to her matted neck fur. There wasn’t a collar or sign that there had been one in a long time. “Who could abandon you? Who wouldn’t love this face?” He ruffled her ears, getting a slobbery lick on the face in return. “Hey now, you gotta buy a man a drink first.” It didn’t bother him, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose.

The smaller dog finally approached, lying down just out of reach. Eyes too wide and body tensed. He knew better than to try to pet her, focusing on the friendlier of the two.There was blood on both their muzzles and the smell of death. He wasn’t sure what they had been fighting over and eating in the grass, but he didn’t care to find out.

“Well, what’s the chance you’ll get in the back of the truck for me, like a couple of brave girls?” He rose to his feet nice and slow. Big frame unfolding to his full height. “C’mon, follow me, darlings.”

It took some convincing but somehow he got both of them into the extended cab of his truck and pulled a U-turn. His trip to town could wait till he got them settled and fed. They were all too eager to get out of the truck and dash into his house, nearly knocking him down in the process.

A laugh burst out, big and loud, as he walked in after them. Muddy paw prints getting everywhere, dogs scrambling to smell everything. The smaller one going slower, inspecting each piece of furniture and tacky rug. Big sis joyfully crashing and bouncing over the couch and down the hall. He heard a clatter of shampoo bottles as she headed into the bathroom.

“Slow down, big girl.” He hurried after her but she was already racing to the guest bedroom and then the other and finally into his room. He wasn’t moving as fast as he used to but he got to the master bedroom just in time to see the big dirty golden dog flopping down in the middle of his bed.

“Oh hell,” he laughed, going to casually sit down next to her. The comforter would never be the same but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t really like the dark blue anyway, more a fan of red and gold he thought. 

“Bet you are still hungry, sweetheart.” He didn’t want to linger too long and a store with actual dog food was almost an hour away. She perked up instantly, licking his fingers as he led the way to the kitchen. The little one followed suit, slinking out from under the coffee table.

Three cooked chicken breasts later, they sat on the edge of the porch in the hot sun. Bellies full and satisfied, the dogs had already calmed down. He would need to take them to the vet soon and get their cuts and scratches checked. They would need vaccines and rabies shots too and to be put on a special diet while they recovered.

“Need to get you fine ladies some collars and some toys. Would you like that?” He scratched under the big gal’s jaw, sweating in the heat. “You’ll be fattened back up in no time.”

 

—

 

“Bonnie! Clyde!” Jesse laughed, chasing after the two massive golden retrievers. They barked and howled with excitement, running straight into the pasture. Clyde lead the way, the bigger and friendlier dog always the leader. They sprung over the tall grass and dashed after a rabbit or mouse. Three weeks of steady meals and vet care had turned them right around. Nights cuddling on the couches and playing fetch and tug-o-war till they were all too tired to do more than nap on the porch in the sunshine.

“C’mon, get back here,” he hollered, not wanting them running around as it got dark. They yelped and half ran back only to go chasing each other around the truck. A shake of his head and he let them be, loading up his arms with grocery bags. It had been a good run, stocking up his pantry, fridge, and even deep freeze. 

He hadn’t questioned why his bank account was full to bursting, afraid if he did he might wake up from the dream. But until then, he lived comfortably and his babies did too. He cooked himself up a nice steak and some salmon for them since they’d been good. Well, not really good, but in the way that he just couldn’t deny them anything. They ate on the floor in the kitchen, listening to smoky blues. Clyde gulped down her portion and turned to snuffle his hair and lick at his neck. He laughed, pushing her away to finish his own meal. Bonnie was more reserved, eating in bits and pieces as if savoring it. Clyde tried to steal a bit of his food, smacking him in the face with her tail in the process.

He’d never been happier.

At least that he remembered.

 

—

 

Weeks blurred into months, busy with his little home and managing the farm. The dogs had gotten adjusted and were always out in the fields helping him. Clyde had a red handkerchief around her neck and Bonnie had two yellow ribbons tied around her ears, both his children looking mighty fine. 

The sturdy gelding under him shifted from side to side, reminding him they had a job to do. Moving the cattle from the east pasture to the northwest while he had the windmill fixed. It had gone from creaking to screaming when the wind picked up. An unsettling sound that had woken him up more than once, breaking out in a cold sweat.

It wasn’t the only time he woke up scared and disoriented.

Just last night he had woken up standing in the field in his sweats. It happened a few times a month, no warning as to why. He’d talked to the town doctor and set up meetings with a therapist. They had both agreed it was a symptom of PTSD, probably brought on by the trauma of nearly dying.

“Still ain't right in the head,” he sighed, scratching at the base of his ponytail. It was small and fluffy, most of his bangs hanging free still. There were moments when his heart would suddenly flutter wildly and drop to the pit of his stomach for no reason. Or send every hair on his body standing on end, in one rush as if ripples of static burst along his mechanical arm through his chest. 

It curled him over the saddle horn, a sudden rush of energy crashing along his left arm and around his heart. Like a living thing was straining against the flesh and metal, tearing into it. Tears stung in his eyes, body clenching as he rode the wave out. They never lasted long, fading away into the late summer day.

“Fuck,” he brushed sweat out of his eyes, trembling as he sat up. Those were just normal too, panic attacks, he’d been told. There was a prescription bottle of Xanax on the bathroom counter, unopened.

The tingle in his arm faded as he rode across the pasture, herding the cows with the occasional crack of his whip. The cows were well behaved, moving together more or less, and they were to the gate before the sun got all the way down. He got them through and locked up all without getting off the gray gelding.

“Bonnie, Clyde!” he hollered, bringing them back to his side, and they made their way home. 

 

 

 

—

 

It was Friday night and the bar was filled with country music, cowboy hats, and plenty of free-flowing whiskey. Dark floors were scuffed from years of boots and dancing, comforting and lived in. Old western posters littered the walls, mixed in with paintings of smoky blue mountains and mulling livestock.

It was a second home, a little slice of heaven always worth the drive. He made it out here every few weeks, having a drink with a handsome stranger or trading tips on how to raise chickens with a friendly butch lady. He was considering getting himself a small flock, raising a few chickens for fresh eggs. Plus he thought they were kinda cute, with their big fluffy thighs and tiny scrawny ankles. He felt like he might have had chickens before, struggling with the lack of memories.

He did remember how to dance, which was why he came on the third Friday of every month. Line Dance Night and all the country folk gathered around. A live local band provided the music and two dozen dancers formed up. He recognized a few faces, waving hello as they started.

The soothing pattern of movement helped more than any of the therapy he’d had so far. Step, step, clap, and turn, laughing when he misstepped or found a confused dancer in his spot. Trading partners and using the chance to flirt and make his partners blush in the sweetest way. Offering nothing but gentlemanly consideration when he ended up with a lady in his arms. 

After the first set, he went panting to the bar to get a drink. His hat on the counter next to him, plaid rolled up past his sleeves and fanning himself with a hand.

A familiar shape slid into the stool next to him.

“Nice seeing ya again, Joel. Let me buy you a drink tonight?”

“I don’t know, pardner,” he waved the bartender over. The massive glass of water followed up by two shot glasses. “You didn’t pick me as your dance partner tonight.”

“You know I had t’go with Matt the first set, young fellow’s easy pickings otherwise.”

They shared a look at the scrawny twenty-two-year-old sitting a few stools down. Messy brown hair shoved back from his face, too big grin flashing at every bear that happened to walk by. 

“See whatcha mean,” Joel chuckled, pushing one of the now full shot glasses over to Duke. “Remember what it was like t’be young?”

“Reckon I could make you feel young again.” Dark smoky eyes found him, a rugged face twisting into a smile. Fit to make a man lose his goddamn mind if he wasn’t careful.

“Reckon you could, Duke,” he threw the glass back, savoring the burn all the way down. “You look like a man used t’riding.” It helped ease the ache in his heart, a strange loneliness that rose only when he looked into a pair of beautiful dark brown eyes.

“Oh, I know how to ride mighty fine, used t'barrel race in my youth. Not so much anymore now. Knees hurt too much. But for you, I’d consider getting on them.” 

Heat gushed all the way down to his toes, molten lava just begging to start a wildfire. “I appreciate the offer,” he chuckled, shifting to ease the bulge starting in his too-tight jeans. “But I'm still a few peaches shy of a pie,” he tapped his head before getting another shot. He threw it back just as fast. “Not that I won’t be thinkin’ of the offer later tonight.”

“We should get coffee sometime,” Duke eased his elbows onto the bar, some of the heat leaving his gaze. A comfortable look passed between them, shifting away from the flirty tone to something safer. “So, you wear that cowboy hat for theme nights or you a rancher?”

“Yeah, little place over an hour away. Just me and my dogs and — ”

“And horses and cows,” Duke finished, sharing the warmth of country life. “What’s the ranch called? Might have heard of it.”

“I’m not sure I ever named it.”

“Not sure?” 

“Just haven’t gotten around to it I guess. Maybe it’ll come back t’me. Doc says to just give it time.”

“Thought they were gonna get you fixed up with those new meds?” Duke knocked their shoulders together but there was a somberness in his tone. “You doin’ okay, Joel. I mean really? You’re all alone out there, don’t even have a partner t’help out.”

An ache stabbed through him, a thousand times worse than a kick from the orneriest horse. Radiating out from his heart in shockwaves. Static raising the hair on his arms, lightning about to strike. A living thing raging under his skin, clawing him open.

“Joel? Joel, are you okay?"

“Y-yeah,” his voice dropping octaves, hoarse. “Fuck, I gotta,” he fumbled in his jacket pocket, pulling out the tiny ziplock bag. A warning hiss from Duke but he ignored it, tossing back the Xanax and chasing it with whiskey.

“You can’t be poppin’ pills in here,” Duke grabbed his arm.

“It's prescription.”

“Sure it is.”

“Fuck you,” he managed a strangled laugh, washing down the taste of the pill with a drink. "It's new, for the panic attacks."

“Long as you’re not about to trip,” a comforting smile flashed his way, a hand landing briefly on his shoulder. “Wanna take a smoke outside? Might clear your head.”

“I don’t smoke but some fresh air sounds good, pardner.” To his credit, his voice only shook a little bit. The pain in his heart receding to a dull ache, just the reminder of whatever had torn him apart.

They stood on the curb, cars speeding by at a measured rate. Even this far into the night, there was traffic in the city. Duke lit up, their shoulders brushing. A breeze carried the smoke away, dispersed into the starry night. 

“So… who broke your heart, if you don’t mind me askin’?” 

“I don’t know,” Joel sighed, scratching the back of his head. “There was no one at the hospital when I woke up. I think… whoever I was before the accident... was lost.”

“Hmm,” smoke billowed from Duke’s nose, the cigarette tip cherry red. “I reckon, and pardon me for saying it, but maybe it was a good thing. Whatever happened to you. You get a chance at a new life, make it a better one. Fill it with people that care and love you.”

“Reckon I would if I knew how.”

“Well, for one,” Duke fished in his leather jacket, pulling out his phone. “You can give me your number.”

 

—

 

The cold air stung his cheeks, scattering bits of ice in the air. A fierce wind howled, whipping the world into a fury. Dangerous for animals and man alike. He tucked the scarf tighter around his face, hat pulled low.

There was a missing heifer and she was heavy with calf. She had broken out of the paddock, heading for somewhere private as cows did. He cursed against the snowstorm, horse shivering under him. He had built up trust with the gelding over the months, working together in the harsh conditions. A pack behind him, heavy-laden with supplies.

If the calf was birthed out here, the poor thing would almost surely die. The thought choked him, terrified of losing even one life on the farm. For some reason, no matter what logic said, he had to save them. From the smallest chicken now safely tucked away in its coop, to the family of raccoons living in an old tree behind the house, he had to protect them. 

He had hurt people once. A lot of people he thought, the idea distant and hazy. Clearest in nightmares of blood and death and fire.

Frost gathered on his eyebrows only the melt from his breath and drip into his eyes. The mechanical one holding up nicely so far. Not as good as a real one but the hospital had done good by him.

He caught the low bellow of a cow in pain, whipped passed him on the wind. “C’mon Sundance, just a little farther,” he wheeled the horse, heading for the source at a steady pace. There was little to see in the gale, squinting as he wove between gently rolling hills down to a creek. It was a small ribbon of ice, out of the wind from years of erosion. 

The heifer was on her side, crying out in pain. 

“It’s okay girl, it’s okay,” he sang, a bundle of supplies under his arm. He had done this many times, in another lifetime. Working fast, he erected the small wind break. Anchoring it to the tree overhead and a boulder lodged into the side of the dirt slope. It shielded the mother-to-be from the worst of it. He threw a thick heated blanket over her, plugged into a heavy battery pack. 

Big soft eyes rolled, following him and yet he thought Bella was calmed by his presence. The calf was coming and he only prayed he wasn’t too late. He sank to his knees, steady hands going to work to ease the passage of new life.

Long bloody work in the cold, back and shoulders aching as he did what he could. The calf was big, bulky in a way that promised a bull in time. But it was hard on the poor mother, her screams would haunt him for years.

But the beautiful sound of a happy calf made it all worth it. He helped hold the baby up, toweling him dry and urging him to eat. He had to eat to survive. He held the calf while he suckled, stroking his back and cooing encouragement. The blanket draped over both of them, keeping away the chill of the storm.

Hours later, he slept in a pile of cows, horse, and human. The heated blanket keeping them from drifting off into the white oblivion. It would protect them from frostbite, all his fingers and toes intact was a bonus too. “We’re all alive,” he sent the text to Duke with a happy smile. Knowing the cowboy would have gotten a kick out of the awkward cuddle pile. 

It was good to have a friend.

 

—

 

It was Christmas day.

“Yeah, Ma, I miss you too,” he sighed into the phone, feet propped up in front of the fireplace. A tumbler of spiked eggnog in one hand and the remote in the other. TV on mute as he talked with his family down in Florida. A sunken feeling invading his chest, dragging him down into the recliner. 

“Next Christmas we’ll have to get together. All of us!”

“I look forward to it,” he closed his eyes, trying to feel something at the sound of her voice. Any flicker of happiness or connection but there was just apathy. She might as well have been a recording telling him he’d won a free vacation.

“Hm? Oh, nobody here but me and the dogs.”

Bonnie and Clyde happily played with the new toys he’d gotten them. Clyde, with big, excited eyes, bringing him a stuffed duck with a squeaker. He tossed it to the other side of the room, watching them go running. Wrapping paper scattered around in a mess, unable to keep from spoiling his babies. The snowstorms would keep them inside more than he liked, feeling fidgety already. Unable to focus on the call, he made his excuse and wished them well.

“I’m a shit son,” he confided in Clyde as she brought the toy back.

She gave him a wet-nose kiss on the cheek and smacked him in the nose with the toy. “Fine, fine, I can at least be a good papa.” He tossed it again before pulling the throw blanket over himself. It really was just another day, and he’d spent plenty of Christmases alone. 

He could remember that much.

 

—

 

The sleepwalking didn’t stop but he started barricading the door at night. He still woke up standing in front of it a few times a month, hands blindly pawing at it. Always the same spot, as if something was tugging him along by the hand. Trying to guide him somewhere. 

Bonnie and Clyde piled on either side of him in the bed helped.

Doctor Ziegler continued to prescribe the drug for memory loss and he took the Xanax whenever the thing inside him tried to stir. The anxiety or panic attack or whatever it was, the meds always calmed it down.

Clyde had his sleeve in her mouth, shaking his arm to get his attention.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he stooped in the cold hallway, ruffling her ears and giving her a good scratch. “I’m okay.”

A kiss on the top of her head and they went back to bed. There was a busy day ahead of them, taking care of the ranch all by himself.

He would need to hire help, come spring, if things kept going well. It might be nice to have someone around too.

 

—

 

It was just over a year, since the accident.

Joel was standing in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. Trying to see the back of his neck. Clippers sitting in the sink, hair scattered around him. There was… something there, so faint he had missed it before. He angled the bathroom light, trying to get a better view. Whatever it had been, the mark was obscured and faded. “A tattoo…” He set the hand mirror down, head pounding like he’d gotten pistol-whipped.

A kiss, he remembered the velvety soft brush of lips on the tattoo that had nearly broken his heart. Blindly reaching, he grasped at the thread of memory. The feeling leaving him breathless and dizzy. 

He had to sit down on the edge of the tub, head in his hands. It still spun wildly, flashes of emotion instead of memory. But he couldn’t hold them, the threads whispering away as the bit of clarity came undone.

Sweat dripped down his back and chest, splashing onto the cold tile. Body far away and mind drifting, somewhere above and to the left. A jolt of electricity dragged him roughly back, stuffing him into the shaking body.

“Fuck!” he yelped, the shock running up and down his arm. Blue and writhing, as if it was a physical thing pressing into this skin. It brought Clyde running and barking. She growled at his arm, hackles raised. 

“Whoa there, easy darlin’,” he raised his flesh hand, palm up for her to smell.

She didn’t approach, standing in the doorway with her teeth bared.

He couldn’t help but feel the same way.

 

—

 

Early spring brought a flurry of new life. Calves wobbling around the fields with contented mothers following after. Tiny fluffy chicks scrambled for feed and bits of lettuce among their parents. A very proud rooster clucked his way around the edges of the flock. He would attack anything that got close to the hens and young.

Clyde had gotten her snout pecked plenty of times before learning to leave them alone. The thrill of messing with them had worn off, the two golden mutts were sleeping under a tree. A baby chicken had wandered over, nestling under a floppy ear.

“You really think so, doc?” Joel paused to finish dumping the fifty-pound bag of sweet feed into a massive bin. Shirtless for the moment, hat tugged down to shield his eyes from the sun.

“Yes, Joel! I believe you can stop taking the Razadyne.”

“Why now?”

“It is time to wean you off of it. You will feel better without it now that you have the Xanax for the panic attacks.”

“I guess if you think so,” he shifted his weight, elbows resting on the top rung of the fence. Even though over a year had passed since he’d woken up in the hospital, he hadn’t gotten much back. PTSD, brain scarring, whatever it was, it hadn’t gone away with the medicine. “You think… there’s anything else you can try?”

“Perhaps, I believe you continuing to go to therapy and getting plenty of rest will help.”

“Sure… I’ll try to, Doc Ziegler.”

He hung up, feeling itchy inside his head. It just didn’t seem right. Why had she been so damn happy, as if she’d just gotten the best news of her life?

“Something weird’s going on, darlin’.” He petted Sundance’s forelock as he grazed on the feed. The big gray gelding twitched his ears but didn’t stop his munching. “But that doesn’t concern you does it? Nah, you’re just a happy horse who likes being brushed.”

 

—

 

The spring went by in a rush, followed by a busy summer. He barely had time to think, much less worry about why the doctor had taken him off the prescription. Some things did start coming back, like that he loved pineapple on pizza and could play the guitar. Big things, the things that mattered, remained elusive.

It didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Learning to take each day at a time, living and working his own little piece of heaven. Duke had come out to help more than once, a willing and able hand around the ranch. He really did need to hire someone, wanting to continue to expand his herd with some fresh stock and maybe add goats or sheep.

He was considering his options when his phone rang. Again. It was the doctor. Again. She was calling every week now, sometimes twice to check on his progress. He never had much to report and after three months of being off the memory loss drug, he had given up hope it would suddenly come rushing back. 

No way of knowing the panic it was causing in a motel room in the small nearby town. 

He ignored the call, taking a deep sip of his iced tea on the front porch swing. A long hard day's work sitting comfortably on his shoulders. Still, he was behind on patching the east pasture fence and he needed to finish his quarterly reports and meet with his accountant to go over tax stuff and the chicken coop needed to be mucked. 

“I really do need t’get some help around here,” he watched Bonnie’s ears flick back to catch his words before she went back to dozing. Clyde shuffled over to put her head on his knee. He couldn’t resist the big brown eyes, scratching behind her ear with his free hand. 

With the other, he typed out a brief ad for work and posted it to the Facebook group of local ranchers. Someone would be able to recommend a good ranch hand or pick up someone wanting to learn the trade in exchange for a good wage and room and board. The house was too big for just one person, even with two big dogs.

The nagging loneliness in his heart had nothing to do with wanting another human around. Definitely not for someone that could bring excitement and laughter to the grueling days. Wanting to see another person’s face light up when he cooked them breakfast or shared a good whiskey.

Clyde nipped lightly at his wrist, reminding him it was dinnertime.

At least his dogs loved him.

\--

 

Prairie grass swayed in a gentle breeze, endless rolling hills stretching out under a blue sky. A lazy heat hanging in the air, begging for chilled drinks and glimmering pools. Cows took refuge in the shady river, splashing through to cool down and drive off the flies. 

Fish darting around them in the murky water. Gulping the stray bugs down before disappearing back into the depths. A turtle sunned itself on a rock in a patch of dappled light across the stream. 

Water cool and refreshing on his hairy legs, Joel waded along the river. Bonnie and Clyde splashing at the edges, sending a flurry of activity ahead of them.

“Clyde,” he laughed as the big dog leapt after a frog, splashing him. She turned to grin, barking to let him know she was doing very important work. Swimming downstream, he followed at a leisurely pace. Most of the work was done for the day, taking the time to cool off.

He hadn’t been planning on going for a swim but seeing the dogs paddling had been too tempting. White shirt soaked and plastered to his skin, jeans restricting some of his pace. Boots left by the riverside behind him.

Tendril of river close enough he could walk out easily. It let Sundance rest during the worst of the heat. 

It was nice in the water, sinking down to mostly float in the current. Feet dragging occasional or brushing a fish, lazily watching the tree branches pass overhead.

It felt like home, like childhood. Happy summers running around in the country, splashing in dirty rivers and climbing trees. Softened by a haze of nostalgia, a big smile promised mischief and kind dark eyes and russet hands eased the cuts and bruises. 

The memories followed him home, like the wet trail on the beaten path. Cowboy boots in one hand, whistling as his babies padded next to him. They were both panting, worn out from playing. He’d give them a hose down once they got back, maybe take a nap on the couch to wind down. There was a Netflix original he wanted to start and a crockpot full of pork tenderloin waiting for him. It would make for some great pulled pork BBQ and maybe he would cook up some corn and crack open a beer.

Dust clouds on the horizon sent a prickle of static down his arm. He squinted, pushing wet hair out of his face. He wasn’t expecting company or a delivery. Picking up his pace, he ate up the distance to the fence. Not bothering with the gate, he climbed over it as a dusty luxury sedan pulled into his circle drive and slammed on its breaks.

_Too nice,_ he didn’t know anyone with a car like that and no city dweller was going to just drive out into the boonies for fun. Low profile tires struggled with the gravel as it came to a stop. Dust rolling in on the breeze and clouding it in haze.

Pain started in his chest, a lightning bolt jumping in his left arm. 

The car door opening and shutting drifted to him, shoes crunching on the drive. He swung down from the fence. His phone went off inside his boot and he pulled it out. Doctor Ziegler was calling him again. He hit ignore, pounding his feet into his cowboy boots. Whoever was out here, couldn’t be good news.

The figure appeared through the settling dust, standing a dozen feet away. His broad shoulders shook, black suit stark in the bright sunlight. 

Joel saw himself in the shiny aviator sunglasses, dripping wet and shaggy. Chest hair dark under the white shirt, fabric riding up on his hips. He looked like a mess. Especially compared to the finely cut man in front of him. Probably a lawyer.

_Fuck,_ what had he done now.

“Jesse,” the stranger’s voice striking straight to his heart.

Or maybe it was his dick, grunting at the sudden hard-on pushing the damp fabric. Man was damn handsome, and shaking like a leaf.

“You okay, pardner?” he approached carefully, nice and slow. “Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Jesse,” the sunglasses coming off and dark, tilted eyes searched his face.

“Think you’ve got the wrong house,” he grinned, Clyde coming up to his side. She leaned into his leg, big eyes investigating the newcomer. “Easy to get turned around out here, not many road signs.”

Slow horror bloomed over the man’s face, draining the color from his face. A silence pulled out thick as molasses. Dark eyes cutting over him again and again, as if trying to find someone else in his boots.

“I…see.” The stranger pushed his bangs back, a hair ribbon stirring in a sudden breeze. 

“Heh,” Joel scratched the back of his head, his ponytail half fallen out. “Need directions? Phones don’t always work so good out here.” The man wasn’t looking at him, staring off to the side. “I’m Joel by the way.”

A gaze sharp enough to cut him open and crawl inside landed on him. Mouth pulled into a tight, almost familiar line. Expectation building, a crackle of static sending the hair on the back of his neck standup. Clyde growled, hackles rising. Bonnie went running for the barn.

“I am Hanzo Shimada.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Sorry, pardner,” Joel reached down to scratch Clyde’s shoulders. Static zipping up and down his arm. “I get the feelin’ that name’s supposed t’mean something to me but I’m drawing a blank.”

“You really do not remember me…” The statement solemn, tugging at Joel’s heartstrings something fierce. Sorrow in the man’s dark eyes.

“Wish I could, sweetheart,” Joel’s eyes flicked up and down the stranger, struggling to find anything familiar. “But by the sad look you’re givin’ me right now, I figure I really should remember you.”

“I had hoped,” Hanzo tilted his head, the bright light, “that seeing me would perhaps trigger your memories.”

“No luck so far. Can’t believe I’d forget such a pretty face.” 

“Your flirtatious ways have not changed at least.”

A bit of heat rose to his cheeks. “Hope you’re not my long-lost brother or this’ll be pretty embarrassing.” 

“I can assure you that is not the case,” Hanzo stepped closer, “Jess — Joel, I’m so relieved you’re safe.” A hand settled on his chest, sending shivers down his core. 

“I’m safe and sound, I can assure ya, darlin’,” Joel tucked his wet hair behind his ears. Just to keep his hands busy. An urge to reach out and touch Hanzo almost overwhelming. “Why don’t you come in for a drink?”

“Hm,” the low hum sparking something. “Perhaps, just one. I do not want to overwhelm you.” The smoky voice followed him up the stairs and into the dim interior of the country house.

“So, what brought you out here all of a sudden?” He glanced behind him, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. This finely dressed man would surely chuckle at the kitschy decor.

“I — ” Hanzo cut off as Clyde knocked into his thigh. She was done waiting for attention, nudging at the man’s hand. There was something going on with him, rapid emotions flicking too fast to process. 

“I’m dripping everywhere,” a small puddle was growing around his feet. “I’m gonna change into some dry clothes. Then we can talk.” Prickles of anticipation raced up and down his spine. Energy crackling and writhing like a living thing. Clyde picked up on it, bouncing on her feet, tail wagging furiously. “Be a good girl, go shake,” he cooed to her, waving Hanzo to the living room as he made his way down the hall.

“What’s her name?” the elegant man called, knelt on one knee, offering his hand. Clyde hopped over, shoving her nose into the man’s palm and giving it a loud sniff. 

Joel chuckled as he stepped into the bathroom, shedding his wet shirt along the way. It went into the hamper, quickly followed by his jeans and boxer briefs.

“Clyde. Bonnie’s the other one but she’s hiding somewhere.” Joel left the door open to talk to his companion. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped into the hall to see Clyde doing her very best to lick Hanzo’s face.

“She’s — ” Hanzo pushed her away by the chest. The dog dancing on her back legs, lifted half up in her eagerness to greet the man. “Very insistent.”

“One of the things I love about her,” Joel laughed, heart warming to see Clyde approve of the stranger. The strange feeling of static had disappeared from the air. “I’m gonna go put on dry clothes then how about that drink?”

“I…” Hanzo froze, half turned toward him. 

Easing a hip out, Joel crossed his arms over his powerful chest. Flexing at the inspection before Hanzo looked away, a serene expression dropped over his face. It tickled the back of Joel’s mind.

“A drink would be appreciated.”

“Be right back. Clyde, be good,” he pointed a finger at her and she huffed, sitting down with a smack of her tail.

He hurried down the hall and into his room. The door was barely closed before he was hopping into a pair of American flag boxer briefs. Grabbing the first pair of jeans out of his closet and putting them on without looking, a shirt following in the same fashion.

_He knows me_ , the words on repeat in his head. This guy knew him and had tracked him down after almost 18 months, but for what? Fingers shaking, he only managed to do half the pearl snaps before growing too impatient. 

“So Hanzo,” he padded down the hall, unable to hide the excited smile on his face. “Why are you here?”

He rounded the corner of the hallway and pulled up, eyes widening. Hanzo was in the doorway to the kitchen with a tray of two crystal tumblers and the finest bottle of whiskey he had. It had been stashed at the very back of the cabinet on the top shelf behind a book on making cocktails.

How did he find it? He wasn’t one to question too much, not when the man was giving him a smile fit to melt his insides. 

A surprised, almost shy twitch of the lips before blooming into a grin. “I was pleased to see you kept my housewarming gift. It will be all the better to share it with you.”

“Fuck! You gave me that?” 

“It is your favorite brand.”

“Really?” Joel sank into the couch. Clyde hopped up next to him, putting her head in his lap.

“Mmhmm,” Hanzo settled into the overstuffed armchair across from him, the tray of drinks on the coffee table between them. He carefully broke the wax seal and began to pour. Movements measured and steadied as if each one had been practiced religiously. 

“Thanks for pourin’,” Joel leaned forward, arms propped on his knees. “Forgot my manners.”

“Please, it is the least I can do.” Hanzo filled both glasses generously, sliding one toward him before sipping his own. 

“Shucks,” Joel took it, letting the golden liquid burn his mouth before coating his throat and insides. Chest surging with warmth, every beautiful note singing through him. “This really is the best.”

“It is.”

Joel’s chuckle stalled on his lips, brows furrowing. “Hanzo, you alright?” There were tears in those dark eyes, just the faintest shine. 

“Of course.”

“Sorry if I…upset you by not remembering. I’m hoping you can fill in some of the blanks for me. Like,” he took another long sip, eyes closing to brace himself, “how we know each other?”

Hanzo twisted the glass in his hand, gaze turned away. Staring at the terrible western art scattered over his little house’s walls. 

A wave of embarrassment washing over him, suddenly feeling every tacky, kitschy thing glaring at them. This elegant guy isn’t the type of have country chicken statuettes and a cactus-shaped lamp. Much less a framed painting of John Wayne over the fireplace with candles like a shrine.

“We worked together,” Hanzo’s voice so soft it was almost lost. The deep, warm notes stroking along the shell of his ear like a physical touch. “The year before your accident.”

“Damn,” the cowboy lowered his glass. “Pardon me for sayin’ it but we don’t seem t’be the types to be working together.”

“It was an…unconventional arrangement.” A slide of hands over black slacks hissed in the air. “Our time in Japan is very dear to me.”

“Shit, Japan?” He couldn’t believe it, shifting to the edge of his seat. 

“Yes, we met in a bar.” Expectant eyes lured him closer, elbows on knees. “I had gotten into a bit of trouble with a local gang. You had been hitting on me.”

A laugh burst out, quickly covered by a shake of his head. “Well that part does sound like me, I think.”

“You were going by Jesse back then and dressed like a hobo cowboy. You were kind enough to loan me the use of your six-shooter to turn the fight.”

A flicker shot through Joel, forcing him straight up in his seat. I killed them, the certainty rising over him. “Not your average trouble.”

“Nothing average about our time together.” The man took a sip of his own glass, mouth a hard line. A glistening drop escaped the corner of his lips to disappear in a short-trimmed beard.

“What happened next?” Heart staggering into a gallop, feeling strange. The story of his life told back to him, foreign, hard to believe. He had somehow managed to get on a plane and make it halfway around the world.

“I’m afraid of the ocean.” It blurted out around a grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Yes,” Hanzo’s voice was thick. “You are afraid of flying over the ocean.”

He leaned back, trying to fight the rush of confusion. Flickers of truth darting past. “I…went to Japan for something.” Brows knitted together, studying the liquid in his glass. Trail of memory rushing away as he reached for it, straining all his attention to try to hold on to it. “I needed…” Pain stabbed behind his left eye, a migraine exploding out through his nerves. Vision going dark, clicking ringing in his head as tiny mechanical gears turned into place.

“Fuck,” he dropped the glass, hands going to the mechanical eye. It was still covered by synthetic flesh and tissue. Barely stopping himself from clawing it out, stilled by the familiarity of the pain. He knew this feeling.

“Deadeye,” Hanzo set his glass down with a clink. At his side the next moment. Cool fingertips pulled his hands away from his eyes. “It is alright, you are alright.”

“It fucking hurts!” He let his hands be captured, folded into the man’s warm ones. “Did I use this in the bar?”

“You were in Japan to have it fixed.”

“This is it fixed?” he grunted, curling forward around a twin pain in his chest. Forehead resting on Hanzo’s shoulder. Smoke and cedar coiling in his nose, filling his lungs with a heady scent. Heat spiked in his left arm, crackling like lightning. Energy shooting up and down his left arm like a living thing struggling to get out. 

“Calm yourself, Jesse. Breathe with me,” the words were like honey in his ear and a hand fell to his left arm. A soothing aura rippled over him, the thing inside him stilling. “Deadeye is a powerful weapon. You must be careful."

“Is it why you chose me?” Joel wheezed, insides twisting. 

“In a way, yes,” Hanzo’s left hand rose, trembling as it rested on Joel’s cheek. “But it is not what made me believe you were the perfect fit that night in the bar when we met.”

“Oh really?” he tried to smirk but the throbbing in his head twisted it into a grimace. Closing his eyes to try to keep his insides down. “Then what happened…that made you hire me?”

“You would not believe me.” 

“Try me.”

“Hmm,” a thumb brushed along his cheekbone, dipping into the tired circles under his eyes. “Perhaps when you are feeling better. You should rest, Jes — Joel.”

“Fuck that,” fist closing in Hanzo’s suit jacket. “Tell me right now. I’ve been waiting so long for answers, for something.” The pain in his head spiraling, trying to keep him from what he needed. What he had to have, no matter what. He had to know.

“Calm yourself,” Hanzo’s hand closed over his wrist. “I am not going anywhere.”

For some reason, the reassurance eased the vibrating knot of energy in his chest. Relaxing by degrees, until he could breathe again. “Sorry,” his mouth dry and words hoarse. He picked up the lucky, unbroken glass from the floor and filled it. 

“Do not apologize,” Hanzo eased away, sitting on the coffee table instead. Their legs brushing at the ankles. “I am sorry to bring such troubling memories back.”

Joel tossed the whiskey back, not caring if he was gulping the most expensive liquor he’d ever had like water. “Just didn’t realize I even had somethin’ like that.” He braced his head in one hand. “I’ve felt the need for a peacekeeper before, just like an itch in the back of m’brain. And…a man doesn’t long for a gun unless he’s used it before.” He threw back another mouthful, shaking as things began to clarify. Emotion over memories. “I know I’m a killer.”

“We both are.”

He looked up, the words settling into a spot in his chest. “Guess I'm in good company then.”

“It does not bother you?”

“Nah,” he ran his flesh hand through his hair before using the hairband on his wrist to put it into a low ponytail. “Guess I just… It’s a relief to know someone knows about it and doesn’t care… Someone just as messed up as me.” He sighed, shoulders slowly relaxing. “Is that why we worked together? Was I a mercenary?”

“Something along those lines. To pay for your new arm and eye, you served my family for a year.” A flicker over Hanzo’s face hinted he was not telling the whole truth. “Before that, you hunted down bounties for a living.”

“Shit, I was like a real outlaw,” he leaned back, resting his throbbing head on the cushion. Suddenly his heavenly life here feeling dull and monotonous in comparison. 

Hanzo’s mouth popped open, staring at him in disbelief. It was scattered by a raucous laugh, the sound a golden bell around him. _I love this laugh_ , the thought lost as soon as it came. He felt something for this man, or had felt something. Camaraderie. Friendship at the very least.

“How am I surprised by this,” Hanzo shook his head, mirth dying out with a rich chuckle. “I do not know what I expected but it was not…that.”

“I mean, I love living here and this place is everything I ever dreamed of,” he grinned down at Clyde and then out the window at the bright pasture and sky. “It’s…it’s like a slice of heaven. But lately, it’s like I’ve been itching for something more.”

“I am…glad you have lived here in peace. That it is to your liking.”

“Couldn’t imagine a better place. Past me had good tastes in picking the place out… Pretty terrible decorating sense.” Closing his eyes against the headache still throbbing in his skull, looking out the window had been a mistake. “But if ya knew me, you’d know I love this kitschy shit. Or do now at least.”

“You were always one for bold fashion statements as well.”

“Shit, really?”

“You wore a cowboy hat, boots with spurs, and a serape to go cherry blossom – viewing once.”

He chuckled, the drink hitting him. “Probably drove a sharp-dressed man like yourself crazy, having me in that getup.”

“Hmm, crazy is perhaps the right word.” Hanzo’s hand fell to Joel’s chest, sending a jolt of pain through his head and pleasure to his groin. “I always found it…rather charming.”

His heart lurched into a gallop, searching the handsome stranger’s face. He knew this man. He had loved this man. “Hanzo… Were we lovers?”

Tears welled in the man’s eyes, threatening to overflow. “I wish we had been. But we could not be. We could not be together.”

A thunderstorm raged inside his skull, lightning cracking him open. Memories fighting for dominance, to break through the thick layer of trauma and regret. He forced himself to take a deep breath, from his stomach all the way through his chest. Memories rushing in, thick smoke, gunshots ringing in the tiny bar. World spinning wildly in chalky streaks.

Agony crystallized over his skull, spikes bursting in his brain. Both hands clutching his head, Jesse staggered to his feet and fell into Hanzo’s arms.

“Jesse, Jesse, what can I do to help?” 

Everything going dark. Clyde barking, sound slow and echoing, mixed between panting breaths, sweat rolling down his skin.

“Bathroom c-cabinet, top shelf, orange bottle. Now.”

Hanzo leapt from the coffee table, racing down the hall.

Jesse’s world spiraled into a dark point in the middle of his chest, sucking all the life out of the room. All the breath out of his lungs. A frenzied rush of memories, danger, and death. Burning metal and sun-bleached bone. The scent of death.

Blood, sharp and metallic in his mouth, gushing from deep within as his breath gurgled. He heaved, bent over as he gasped for air. He was dying. Chest gashed open and life cascading to polished wood floors.

“Jesse, Jesse, here.”

He was grabbed by the shoulders, forced to sit up as tears flooded down his cheeks. Why was this happening, why did it hurt so much? A pill was forced into his mouth, followed by water, sliding down his throat. He fought it, struggling against the strong arms on him. Forcing him back into the couch, pinning him down.

“Jesse, stop you will hurt yourself,” Hanzo’s deep commanding tone was lost on him, tearing at his head. His wrists were captured, forced back so hard it hurt. Panic setting in, arm burning like fire, exploding out in blue shards.

Everything went black.

 

—

 

Night had fallen over the house. Moonlight strong on the window and the lonesome howl of a coyote threading to the clouds. The click of nails on the wood floor tapping at Jesse’s consciousness. 

Not quite asleep but not awake, laid out on the couch with a pillow behind his head and a blanket over his body. The voice from the kitchen soft, speaking low and fast. Making out bits and pieces, nothing rooting in his brain.

“Angela, he doesn’t remember me still. He doesn’t remember what happened between us. He doesn’t remember I…that I…” Hanzo trailed off, gruff with tears. There was a long pause, bare feet slapping on the tile floor in the next room. “I understand that. I know you did not want me to come here. I had to see him again.” A choked down sob went straight to his heart, urging him to go to the man. I thought if I just told him what happened, he would remember. It’s all been for this, it’s finally safe for him to remember and he can’t!”

A long pause, not sure if he was awake or dreaming.

“I know it’s dangerous to push him but I can’t just leave him this way, Angela!” It was a plea, a cry for help in the darkness.

Joel struggled to stay conscious. Not sure what he’d heard, what he’d been dreaming about. Dragons. Swirling beings of light and death. Oceans of bloody flower petals. 

“I can’t… I can’t see him this way…”

Jesse lost the fight against the painkillers, drifting into oblivion again.

 

 

—

 

Morning sunlight drifted over the bed, blushing with the first touches of dawn. Gentle heat easing the tension in his neck and the lingering pain in his head. Eyes weighed down and crusted closed.

His mouth tasted like shit.

Groaning, he slowly opened his eyes. He was propped up on his side, surrounded by pillows to keep him in the position. That hadn’t happened since he was a teenager binge drinking with the older boys in the neighborhood.

At least he hadn’t puked. 

Scratching at the door reminded him that his babies would need to be let out. Poor things must have been holding it for… “Shit…” He glanced around the bedroom, the night before slowly coming into focus. The memories raw in his mind, the pieces taking time to settle into place.

A glass of water was on his nightstand, along with a carefully folded note and prescription bottle of painkillers. He downed the whole cup in greedy gulps, throat raw from crying out in pain. Drops fell to his bare chest, glistening in the sunlight.

He was pretty sure he’d had a shirt on when he’d gone to bed last night. Or at least…when someone had gotten him to bed. A sharp pain jolted into his temple and he used the last gulp of water to swallow a pill. 

Hanzo Shimada had carried him to bed and tucked him in with care. His love and his killer, tangled together into one. _The clan_ , he jolted to his feet, panic hammering at his chest. But nothing had happened, in all the months living here on the farm. The clan hadn’t shown hide nor hair. Deadlock not even casting a shadow over him. Whatever Hanzo had done had truly worked.

He was completely free.

Clyde whined outside the door, claws scrabbling as she tried to dig her way into his room. A quick reminder that his life still needed living and his little slice of the American dream wasn’t over. And that dogs could only hold it for so long.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he called. Shoving his long legs into sweats before shuffling to the door. Heart light and fluttering in his chest, something old and bright beginning to bubble up, fighting to make itself known in the crush of dark memories. Guilt for all that he had done close on its heels.

Clyde whined outside the door, joined by a much softer whimper from Bonnie. “It’s okay, babies, let’s get you some fresh air and sunshine.”

The note left on the bedside table, unread.

 

—

 

Three days passed, keeping more than busy repairing a stretch of fence. Determined to fill his mind and body with anything but the painful clash of memories inside him. The sound of the posthole driver striking metal ringing out with each steady blow. Noise chasing away the birds and small furry creatures. Bonnie and Clyde weren’t helping the local wildlife either. Bonnie stalking something off to the left and Clyde happily running up and down the fence.

Sweat trickled down Jesse’s back, sticking his shirt to his skin. Thick muscles rippled as he brought the metal T-post driver down with both hands. The T-post driving into the hard earth, little by little. Slow work in the heat, every 10 feet a new post. Mind far away from the task.

Haunted by a beautiful, sorrowful face framed by dark hair. Gorgeous and deadly. A killer just like him, a desperate man on the run. The night racing through his mind again and again. _I have to see him again_ , the thought painful and yet sending thrills of excitement down every nerve ending. The note had left no way to contact Hanzo or clue to where he might have gone. Or if he was coming back.

Clyde came rushing to his side, a stick in her mouth. He pulled it free and tossed it, heart softening to see his baby having fun. Her big, soft ears bouncing with every leap and her tail wagging in joy. 

He smiled, abandoning his work to chase after her. She barked in glee, leading him on a wild run over the pasture and through the creek in a splash. “C’mon girl,” he whooped and hollered, throwing the stick for her again and again. Bonnie following after them shyly, yipping her encouragement and chasing sticks but never returning them. 

They fell into a heap of wet dog and human in the tall grass. Bonnie joining them with her side against her sister’s and Jesse with an arm over Clyde. It was cool in the shade, comfortable in his damp clothes. It was hard to stay angry at a man he was sure he had once loved. A man that had killed him and set him up in his own heaven.

Except it wasn't heaven anymore.

 

—

 

It took him almost a week to work up the courage to call the numbers listed at the bottom of the note. Fingers shaking as he tapped it in, something familiar and strange about it. Like his muscles remembered that pattern even if his mind didn’t.

He paced across his living room, tensing up with every ring. Telling himself again and again that it was alright, maybe she was just away from the phone. Or dead. He shuddered at the thought, heart going cold.

The other end finally picked up.

“Hello?” A soft, lyrical voice echoed into his ear. Tears instantly overflowed and his knees went weak. “Is someone there?”

He sank to the floor, shaking as that voice wrapped him up in a hug. “Mama? Mama, it’s me.”

“Jamie? Oh my god, Jamie, is that you?”

He wiped roughly at his eyes, fighting back a sob of relief and joy. This was his mama’s voice. Warm as a summer night and gentle as a desert rose. “It’s me, mama. It’s me and I’m okay.”

“I know you are,” she crooned into his ear, “Hanzo told us everything when he got you safe. Not where you were but that you were safe. That we were safe.”

“He…of course he did,” he rested his head back, happy tears staining his beard. “How are you, ma?”

“I am well. It has been a good year for the farm, the calves — ”

“Ma, I don’t care about the calves. How are you? How is your leg? Are you safe out there? Has Deadlock shown up again?”

A delicate shimmering laugh eased his worries. “Baby, we are both safe. Life has almost been too easy the last year and a half. I am losing my edge, always being taken care of and pampered by your sister and her girl.”

“Mabel’s got a girlfriend?” A smile eased over his face, daring to believe things were actually good. “Still living with you?”

“Good lass, can rope like you wouldn’t believe. They have taken the upstairs for a little nest. The stairs are hard on my old knees,” her voice full of joy and pride, the way only a mother could have when talking about her children. “But, buckaroo, have you suffered? Hanzo could not tell us where you were…”

“I’m fine, ma. More than fine, he got me a little ranch with some cows and a nice house…” He closed his eyes. _And he killed me, to save us_ , the thought unspoken. “But nothing is as good as hearing your voice again.”

“Jamie, where are you? Can we see you?”

“Ask him if Hanzo’s shown up.” 

Mabel.

“Hey, Mabs,” he released a breath he didn’t realized he’d been holding. Mabel was alive and well and happy. “He was here a few days ago. I…I blacked out when the memories were coming back.”

“All the memories back?”

“Most,” Jesse sighed, pain skittering at the edge of his mind. “I think…something’s still wrong with my head.”

“Well, call that stupid ninja and have him fill you in.”

“I don’t know how to find him.”

“Ma, take the phone. I gotta go make a call,” her voice firm and determined.

A grin tugged at his lips, the familiarity of his sis on a mission making him warm.Things would work out, one way or another. 

Hanzo Shimada couldn’t run away from him for long.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Swarm for helping pull this chapter together <3

 

 

Jesse whistled in his bathtub, feet propped up on the edge above a thick layer of bubbles. Music pumped through hidden speakers in the ceiling from his Spotify playlist. The glowing holo-pad propped up on a bath caddy, showing his own death. Or at least what the media had reported to be his death a year and a half ago.

Hanzo's face, grief-stricken and haunted, was all too real on one side of the screen. It was easy to believe he had been feeling lost and destroyed in the aftermath. Hattori Hanzo had lost his fiancé in a freak accident in the rain when a truck had taken a turn too fast and jumped the curb near the coast of Japan. So tragic since they had just arrived back from the states. His corpse had been mangled beyond recognition and only dental records had confirmed his identity.

"Wonder how many of my teeth are mine." He rubbed his jaw, no way of knowing which had been pulled. He figured that would save him on dentist trips at least. Flicking through the rest of the article, he learned he'd been officially buried in Japan in a private plot. 

The grief had driven Hattori Hanzo from the public eye, all but disappearing from society altogether. His character had been written out of the popular show he starred in. He had not taken any new movie roles, interviews, or so much as shown himself in almost a year.

It was rumored he had returned to America to be close to the home of his love.

"Dramatic fucker," he rolled his eyes and slipped lower in the water. It eased the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders. Clyde scratched at the door to the bathroom, whining that she had not been let in. He would have normally left it open, so the dogs could wander in to say hello, but he'd ruined one tablet already when Clyde jumped straight in.

So now he read in semi-peace, trying to put together what had happened eighteen months ago. It was easy to follow from newspaper articles and fanblogs. Flashes of violence and death with Hanzo at his side filling in what went on behind the scenes. They had worked for the clan together, carrying out executions. And pretended to be partnered. He wasn’t sure why they had taken up the falsehood but it had gone over well in the tabloids.

"Star-crossed lovers," he rolled the words on his tongue, trying to taste them. A yawning crevice in his heart opened at just the thought. Struggling with the holes in his memories and the deep, steady assertion that he and Hanzo had felt something for each other. 

Jesse closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the tub's edge, the folded-up towel making it comfortable, dangerously so. He'd already fallen asleep in the deep hot water more than once. His mind slowly stilled to the smooth sound of Johnny Cash, letting some of the tension drain from his body.

It would all work out. Hanzo couldn't just disappear without a trace. 

Memories drifted into the darkness in front of his eyes, firelight on Hanzo's face with marshmallow stuck in his beard. The soft, sweet sound of laughter bubbling up between them, sharing cigarettes like twitterpated teenagers. He could almost feel Hanzo's body next to his, pressed in tight for warmth. A tattered blanket thrown over them and rain pattering on leaves high overhead.

Blood and the stench of death.

He jolted up with a gasp, clutching at his chest as pain seared out from his core. Like a hot iron branding him, power radiating down his left arm. Clyde started barking outside the door.

"Shit." Eyes widening as he remembered what it was. This was no symptom of PTSD or drunken imagining. It was right there on the edge of his tongue, something that would unleash the storming energy. The last thing he needed was… was to have to… deal with what his mind was telling him lived under his skin.

He swore, lurching out of the tub. Dizziness washed over him as his blood pressure dropped, legs weak and languid from boiling in the water. He stumbled, grabbing the sink to keep from falling. Water dripped down his body, glistening in the moonlight streaming through the open window. Blinds long since thrown open to let in the soft noises of the prairie. If he had neighbors he might have felt a bit of shame but out there, there were only the cows to judge him.

He fumbled for his robe, tossing open the door. Bonnie bolted down the hall with a whine and Clyde lunged for him. He almost bit it for the second time in as many minutes. "Down girl, down," he pushed her away, hand coming away from her chest covered in downy blond fur.

She barked at him and lunged, grabbing the tie of his robe. "Hey!" He grabbed it, trying to hold his covering in place as she tugged at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Not now! Go! Sit, SIT!" He snapped his fingers. She whined but let go, big eyes full of confusion.

It struck him through the chest like a physical blow. He crouched low, gently ruffling her ears. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to yell," he soothed, only petting her with his right hand. His mechanical hand was tingling and burning as light sparked inside the deep joints of metal. 

He was scared that if it went out he would lose his chance to finally get some answers. Some things that just didn't make sense, not within the confines of reality.

He had a feeling that the world was not going to make as much sense soon, or maybe things would all come together. It didn't excuse him yelling at his sweet baby. He stayed with her until she was wagging her tail and smiling again. 

The heat not fading from his left arm, a familiar itch for nicotine and open skies nudging at him. He left the front door open as he headed onto the porch. The pack of cigarettes on the entry table going with him. He needed it to calm his nerves, to clear his head so he could think up a good plan to catch the ninja assassin and bring him home. He deserved that at least, a chance to learn about his past. 

The porch swing creaked under his weight, long bare legs still gleaming with water in the moonlight. The first gush of nicotine into his system as good as a shot of whiskey, focusing his mind.

He wished his sister could be here. To call him an idiot and smack him sense into him. She would know what to do when he didn't. She already had half a dozen men and women looking for Hanzo. Using every connection and favor she'd garnered over a decade in the service called in. 

Thanks to her, Jesse knew Hanzo was still in the country but not much more. Not enough to take to the open road to find him, if he had even gone that far. His arm blazed in a sudden glow of light and he winced as static coiled through him. It had been doing that a lot lately, always unexpected and gone just as fast.

He was beginning to expect that there was more to the mechanical arm than just a prosthetic. He studied it as the cherry-red tip of the smoke bobbed, turning the arm this way and that. It was shiny in the moonlight, faintly glowing blue at the wrist and forearm. 

Just when he began to see a pattern in the faint shift of light, it started to fade away. 

"Fuck, no!" he growled, cradling it to his chest. A deep, desperate sensation crawling up his spine, like when he woke up in the middle of the pasture facing toward the sunrise. Or lingered too long in the local bar with a cute guy trying to flirt his way into a phone number. Glowing brightest in the moments of fear, as if to reassure him.

The light slowly disappeared, leaving him alone in the dark.

 

—

 

The sun beat down, a scorching summer day reaching its zenith. A thunderstorm threatening to bubble over the horizon, the smell of lightning in the air. It was strangely comforting, an electric current that got into his blood.

Jesse rode along the fence, checking for weak spots or signs of trouble. He remembered how the barbed wired had been cut at his ma's place and the dangers of poachers and gangs. Even if his life here had been nothing short of idyllic, the itch of the past was hard to shake. He almost expected to be attacked, as if just remembering would summon the demons.

Clyde ran ahead of him, scaring up birds, and Bonnie trailed behind. She was sniffing every post, stopping to mark frequently. "Smell something, Bonnie?" he called to her, hips rolling smoothly in the saddle. She didn't reply, but Jesse drew his own conclusions. There was probably a coyote pack moving into the territory. He had been lucky so far to not have much trouble with the pests.

He would need to double and triple check the chicken coop when he got back to the house. He wasn't going to lose any of his babies to the scavengers. 

The buzz of his phone almost went unnoticed as he stared over the rolling hills, worrying his bottom lip. They were chapped and raw from the unrelenting heat. He needed to stop and get some balm if only he could remember.

Mabel's name on the screen made his heart jump, praying for good news as he answered. "Howdy!" He guided the horse with one hand, eyes returning to the fence. "Find anything new?"

"We got him."

"What?" He sat up straighter, legs tightening around Sundance. "You found him?"

"Got a hit on the network—" Jesse made a mental note to check out if this network was underground or not later, "—he must have run out of cash, a credit card attached to one of his fake identities was used right fucking there half an hour ago."

Jesse's head reeled, feeling dizzy. "You mean…"

"He's hiding out in the town, Jesse."

Hanzo was there, just out of his reach. Staying close to him for some reason but not contacting him. What did it mean?

He managed a strangled thank you before turning the horse for home. Urging Sundance into a gallop, storm rising behind him in roiling dark clouds. His heart in turmoil, tears stinging his eyes as he raced for the shelter Hanzo had made for him.

A home, bought and paid for by a man who had been his boss and his friend. His would-be lover, if fate had been kinder. 

 

—

 

Rain pounded his shoulders, pelting hail stinging. The heavy Stetson pulled low to protect his eyes and a long black trench coat keeping him dry. It hung low, swaying past his boots with each step.

The gas station Hanzo's card had been used at was dead. The townsfolk had scattered at the first plink of hail, buckling down against the torrential rains and blistering winds. 

Peacekeeper was strapped to his thigh, a comforting weight even if he wasn't sure how true his aim would be. The gun had shown up in a velvet-lined box on his porch without a note a week earlier. It was elaborately engraved with his name and a pattern of roses down the barrel now. Mabel would call it tacky but he loved it, more than ever.

The smell of gasoline and body oder filled his nose, the door to the small station closing with a jingle of bells. A similar chime rang with every step as he prowled to the counter. Shelves of overpriced chips and candy stared back at him, lottery tickets shiny under a sheet of glass and old men packed into the small seating area. Smoke drifted from the pair, trading stories of the good old days.

Jesse ignored them, hunting down the attendant by the coolers. A young woman with twin braids, probably just out of high school, was restocking the off-brand cola.

He approached slowly, not wanting to scare her but figuring he was going to anyway. "Pardon me, miss," he spoke low and soft.

She still flinched, jumping back with wide doe eyes. Recognition showing up the next moment. "Mr. Morricone," she smiled wide, tension visibly relaxing from her shoulders. "You're not due here for another week. Run out of feed early?"

"I'm in town for a … social visit," Jesse forced himself to speak calmly, not letting on just how desperate he was for answers. 

"Aw, someone in town for ya?" She knelt to return to stocking the drinks.

"Something like that." He stooped, trying not to drip rainwater everywhere. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. A guy about my age, Japanese with real pretty eyes." He casually reached into his coat pocket, crisp bills rustling. "Got a real funny hair style for a guy about to hit forty."

"You don't have his number?" she asked, not looking up. "Or Snapchat?"

The cowboy blinked, wondering if he should know what that was. It would definitely show his age to not know about it. "Tried that, seems like he's lost his phone." He wasn't going to try to intimidate this girl. Which is probably why Hanzo had picked this place to withdraw cash from. The dusty ATM in the back of the store still worked apparently. 

Mabel hadn't been able to get the security camera footage of him. They stored it all on discs, amazingly enough. It made hacking in pointless. Unless someone physically put the discs into the computer, the footage was just not there.

He slid a crisp hundred-dollar bill into the girl's line of sight. "I would thank ya kindly if you could remember any details about my friend. I'm worried he's in trouble."

She looked down at the money, eyes widening. "I… mister, I can't take no money."

"I just want a few minutes in the backroom, just a look at the security footage."

He watched her debate with herself. A few furtive glances around, to the security cameras and the old men playing cards, and he knew she was tempted. He slid another hundred her way. 

"Okay, but you can't tell nobody. I wouldn't just trust anyone but you, Mr. Morricone."

 

—

 

The footage was grainy. Even on the high end screen on his home computer. The discs stacked up next to an empty coffee cup and several dirty plates he’d been meaning to clear. The screen showed video disrupted by static and random jumps, The inside of the little gas station on one side of the screen, the two gas pumps outside on the other. Black and white, it obscured most of the details simply by the nature of being outdated technology. Another reason Hanzo had probably risked it.

But why chance it at all? Hanzo could have been halfway around the world by now, doing whatever he had been up to the last year and a half. But for some reason, he had stayed here, in this tiny town on the edge of the middle of nowhere. 

Jesse rubbed his jaw, considering what he remembered of Hanzo. The man had set him up in his own slice of heaven at great expense and risk for his own safety. It wasn't wise to continue this way, to leave them distant and apart. What would happen if the clan went after Hanzo again?

Was he really safe, hiding out in this bit of nowhere?

And why hadn't he shown himself? Was he waiting for a sign?

A sigh dropped from his mouth, resting his head on the back of his chair. The footage wouldn't help him track down Hanzo. The man had parked out of sight of the cameras and had his hood up the whole time. 

It prickled at Jesse's mind, feeling suddenly like he was not alone. Like he was being monitored though he had no reason to suspect it besides the fact Hanzo was still in town.

Heat trickled up his arm, from the tips of his metal fingers all the way onto his chest. _Hanzo's tattoo ends here_ , he touched his left breast just above the nipple. A ripple of static raced down his arm. 

Desire coursed through his veins, memories of that creamy, soft skin vivid in his mind. The sunlight gleaming on thick muscles as Hanzo flexed while training. A sly smile begging to be kissed when Hanzo caught him staring.

A feverish moment in the bedroom of his mother's house when Hanzo had been beneath him. Pinned to the floor, face full of hunger and desire.

_Why didn't I kiss him?_ He knew now that he should have, that it was the moment he longed for. Hanzo would not have stopped him, even if there had been hesitation in his eyes. It hadn't mattered that Hanzo held his life in his hands. Not to Jesse.

The power coiled tighter in his arm, a living thing pushing against the toned muscle and cold metal. It was quickly heating up as the power rolled through him. _The Dragons_ , he jerked up, cracking his knee on the underside of his desk.

"Fucking shit." He scrambled to his feet, holding his left arm away from his body. He remembered what these two spirit bastards could do and he wasn't looking forward to having them destroy his home.

The power faded quickly, simmering down to an almost comforting warmth. 

"That's right, good girl." He awkwardly patted his left forearm. The dragon rumbled but to his relief didn't try to make an appearance. 

_I am lonely._

The voice inside his head was velvety, wistful as if speaking to herself.

_Me too,_ he wasn't sure if he needed to say it out loud, sinking into the office chair. A wave of hope cascading through him, a dizzying sensation. He rested his forehead on the cool wood of his desk.

_Find my mate._

"I'm trying," Jesse chuckled, not opening his eyes. Things clicking into place. Like why he woke in the middle of the night in strange places, walking to a destination he did not know.

A scaly muzzle nudged at his face until he looked up. Large dark eyes met his, more solid and sturdy than he had ever seen the dragons before. Fur tickled his nose as the beast wormed in tight, much like a cat might.

Staying still, he tried to process the new memories. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, a reminder that the house was empty. That he was alone when his heart ached for another. A ripple of longing washed over him, tinged with fear, but it was not his own.

"Is this… what Marked by the Dragon means?" his voice was soft, lifting his flesh hand to gently scratch under the ancient spirit's chin.

The beast did not reply but he knew.

The shared pain told him what he needed to know.

And gave him an idea how to turn the tables, luring Hanzo to him.

 

—

 

Heavy country music mixed with smoke and lights, twangy voices and heeled boots tumbling together. The club was packed with writhing bodies clad in plaid. A sea of cowboy hats and tacky western gear. Half of the crowd was wearing chaps and various leather getups. It wasn't out of theme for the night.

Fake guns with orange caps were held in oversized holsters or tucked into the back of men's pants adding to the flare. Spurs rattled in time to the music, a small sea of men eager for a chance to have fun and blow off steam and maybe find a partner for the night. Bravado and swagger, fake gunfights and the occasional real tussle added to the air of festivity. The cowboy night in full swing at the only gay bar within driving distance. 

Jesse was the first to admit it wasn't his best plan but with Eva purring in his arm, he thought it was working. The dragon spirit slithered eagerly in his mechanical arm, ready to spring at any moment. He calmed her with a friendly pat, not needing any of those sparks to fly tonight. The heavy lasso was clipped onto his belt. He hooked his thumbs through the belt actually threaded through the loops of his ridiculously tight pants. 

A tacky GAMF belt buckle fitting in perfectly and he sure as hell was looking like one. Button-down shirt straining at his thickly muscled chest, pearl snaps catching the light with a wicked sparkle. He had even trimmed his beard and pulled his hair into a low ponytail. Freshly cleaned Stetson pushed back on his head. 

He had a pretty twink on his left trying to buy him another drink. Bright blue eyes eager and the smile genuine. Too young for him though, easily a decade his junior. He leaned down, watching a flush race across sun-kissed skin. "Easy there, buckaroo." He brushed his gloved mechanical hand down the man's arm. "You're better off usin' your money t'buy someone else a drink. I got my sights on someone already but—" he jerked his chin behind the blond twink, “—that guy in the red chaps has been making doe eyes at you all night. Why don't you try dancin' with him?"

A brief moment of disappointment flickered across the smaller man's face before turning to catch the man in the red chaps staring. He grinned and tossed back the shot that had been intended for another.

Jesse chuckled, wishing him the best of luck in his pursuit of a charming evening. He was not here for fun. Eva reminded him of that as she rose higher in his arm, into the flesh of his shoulder, and up his neck. The sensation sent a shiver through him.

He didn't need the confirmation that somewhere in the dark building, Hanzo had appeared. The sprinkling static confirming it again as the dragon began prowling up and down his entire arm. She sensed her mate and hungered to be reunited.

Jesse sipped a tumbler of whiskey, eyes cutting over the dance floor and small tables and booths tucked on the sides. The ninja was nowhere to be seen, or in disguise enough that he couldn't be easily distinguished. But he was watching Jesse, just like he had gazed from afar countless times over the last year and a half.

He could have made his move at anytime, or at least shown his face. Bastard couldn't just show up, turn his world upside down again and expect to just walk away. Lingering at the edges of Jesse's life, watching and longing.

_Sure this will work?_ he thought, feeling the dragon spirit inside him rumble in answer. He shrugged, searching until his gaze settled on a hunk with shaggy brown hair and a wicked smile.

_I can feel my mate. He is jealous. He knows I am awake now._

Jesse rolled his shoulders, casually stretching his fingers and wrists. He needed to be lightning fast if what he feared were to happen. But at least this plan was mildly safer than the alternative. It would have been stupid and reckless and one hundred percent a bad idea. He had considered it, though, and decided against such foolishness. 

Putting himself in harm's way just in the hopes that Hanzo would save him was dumb, even by his own standards. He had people to live for besides his one-time boss and friend and…would-be lover. He had a life worth living here.

Instead, he stepped onto the dance floor, locking eyes with the handsome man in the crowd. It was easy to weave through the sweaty bodies, using his height and bulk to find his chosen partner. "Wanna dance, sugar?" he grinned, leaning down enough to be heard over the music. 

"Sure thing, cowboy." The hunk extended a calloused and worn palm. "I'm Tom."

"Jesse." He flashed his very best smile and brushed his thumb along Tom's hand as they shook. "Pleasure t'meet'cha."

"Oh, it's all mine." Tom returned the smile and twirled under their joined arms. 

Jesse took the hint and pulled his partner close to begin dancing. 

"Haven't seen you around here before, Jesse." Tom's hands were on his shoulders, keeping a small distance between them. 

"From out of town." Jesse wasn't the most coordinated fellow, definitely not as used to dancing without a set of steps to follow with the group. His brows pulled together, keeping the edges of his attention cast wide. Eva was running up and down his arm in excitement. Hanzo was watching. A ripple of jealousy spiked up his arm. "Just in town for the night."

"Lucky you already had your cowboy gear," Tom snickered at him, only wearing plaid and a cowboy hat himself. "I hope you aren't thinkin' to make me a conquest for the night."

"I'm a real cowboy," Jesse laughed, pulling his partner a little closer. Letting their chests brush slightly. "And truth be told, I'm not looking for anything more than dancin' tonight."

"Then let's dance."

As much as Jesse was hoping for an instant blowup, he was enjoying his time with Tom. Dancing as silly as they could between the occasional grind, they stayed together for the next hour. A few men approached them, trying to cut in, but they were happy to stick to each other.

Eva was straining against his arm, the metal on his forearm showing hot spots. She wanted free. But letting a massive blue dragon out in the club was not going to be a good idea, and Hanzo might make a break for it.

His heart was beginning to sink by the second hour of dancing and talking. The jealousy filtering to him through the dragon was fading. Wherever Hanzo was, the man was coming to terms with his exclusion.

Fucking bastard. Of course Hanzo would just drift away, assured he did not deserve Jesse's time and attention. To have a second chance in his life. Fucking idiot. He could have kicked the man.

"Tom, I gotta tell you the truth—"

"Just go, he's been staring at you for literally the entire time."

"What?" Jesse pulled up straight, eyes widening. 

"Ex?"

"Something like that." Jesse's heart pounded, leaping into a gallop as he turned. Tom's gaze leading him across the dance floor to the small stage where the band was playing. A dark figure lingering near the door to the outside. A familiar silhouette highlighted for just a moment with a flash of light.

Jesse's heart clenched so tight it hurt.

Familiar dark eyes locked with his, wide and startled. A black cowboy hat pulled low on his head, simple red flannel shirt hiding the tattoo and tight Levi jeans accented with a large gold belt buckle.

For a moment, neither man moved.

The band struck the first notes of a new song, the crowd surging back to life.

Hanzo bolted out the door and Jesse leaped after him. He shoved through the crowd, careless in his eagerness. The man was faster than him on foot, he would already be halfway down the alley.

People scattered out of his way and he burst through the back door. Cool night air stuck to his face, misty rain casting glows under dull lights. Hanzo was already thirty feet in front of him, lunging from the slick cobblestones to a dumpster. Extending out to grab the fire escape.

"Don't you fucking dare, Hanzo!"

Eva roiled in his arm, surging at his very fingertips. The lasso was familiar in his hand, a coil of power hanging at his side.

Hanzo paused, just a moment and looked back. His face stained with crimson, hair wild around his face. The cowboy hat lost in the run. There were dark circles under his eyes. "It is for the best, Jesse," his words barely making it to Jesse's ears over the throb of music at his back. 

"And just what makes you think that?" he bellowed, blue light crackling around him. "What makes you think you can just leave again without talking to me about it? Without letting me remember everything and make my own decision about what’s best for me!"

Hanzo's gaze dropped, a weariness easing through their bond. Something raw and fragile underneath.

"Just stop runnin' away and talk t'me." Jesse took a cautious step closer, lasso still in hand. "C'mon, I ain't being hurt by ya, ‘cept for yer absence that is," he tried to chuckle, the sound caught in his throat with tears. 

Hanzo's shoulders shook, hands running through his hair frantically. "I can't… I can't see you this way, Jesse. I'm… I'm sorry."

"What way?" he challenged, taking another step forward.

Hanzo shook his head violently and turned his back. "My presence hurts you. I cannot stay and risk your health."

"Fucking shit you can't," Jesse snarled, the dragon rising within him. A snarl of blue light in the darkness. He twisted the lasso, starting a slow spin as Hanzo refused to look at him. 

"Goodbye, for good."

"No, you fuckin' don't!"

Hanzo leaped for the fire escape.

Jesse threw the lasso with a roar, the dragon riding the pale cord with a snarl that rattled the windows. It flew straight and sure, Eva's screams of joy higher than the blast of thunder as the dragons were reunited.

Jesse yanked hard, eyes squeezed shut against the flash of blue light. Hanzo went down with a scream of indignation, falling into the open half of the dumpster with his arms pinned to his sides.

Horrific snarling and roaring rose from the garage with an arc of lightning. It struck all around, cracking the old cobblestones and threatening to set fire to the buildings. Jesse ran straight into it. The connection to Hanzo, as slight as it had been through the dragons, was completely gone. Panic setting in as he threw himself over the dumpster edge. The metal so hot it burned his flesh hand. He landed awkwardly, back to the wall. Shirt bursting into flames even as he stared at the tangle of dragon and flesh. Hanzo pinned beneath a massive coil of blue energy. Eva's jaws locked on the other dragon's neck. She was not pleased to have been deserted by her mate.

Smoke billowed from beneath them, trash catching fire in a gust of black smoke.

"Fuck!" Jesse coughed, eyes watering. He grabbed Hanzo by his belt and slung him over his shoulder. His metal hand grabbed the edge of the dumpster, sizzling and aching as the heat ate at it. 

"Sorry," he hollered and threw them both up and over the edge. He landed on one knee, groaning as they spilled away in a messy tumble into a mass of damp leaves. Hanzo trapped beneath them, stinking of burning plastic and eyes dazed.

"Hanzo." He shook the man, trying to lift his weight up.

Iron arms locked around his waist and Hanzo thrust his head into the shelter of Jesse's neck. Sobs racked his broad shoulders and Jesse realized he was shaking just as hard. Cradling the man to his chest as they slowly sat up, ignoring the shrieking dragons.

"I remember," Jesse whispered, voice raw and husky. He hesitantly raised a hand to cup Hanzo's face. "I remember most of…what happened."

"Then surely you must hate me." Hanzo wouldn't look at him, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "For…for doing what must be done."

"You are a fucking idiot." He smiled through the words, brushing his thumb to wipe away a tear. "Thank you… Thank you, Hanzo for saving me. For saving my family."

"I…cannot accept your gratitude. It was never my plan to kill you but…they would have…they would have," Hanzo trailed off, covering his face with his hands. "They would have killed Mabel and Mama McCree and Genji and us both. I had to. I had to make the decision in a heartbeat and…I could only hope I could save you."

Jesse leaned in, capturing both of the man’s hands lovingly in his. "You saved us… Fuck, Hanzo… You set me free."

He dragged the man into a tight embrace, ignoring the thick smoke billowing from the dumpster and the lashing of the dragons’ squabble. In that moment, it was only the two of them.

"Please." he held Hanzo to his chest, mouth on his neck. The scent of metal and musk so achingly familiar it stole his breath. "Promise you'll stay with me. That you won't run away again as soon as I let you go."

Jesse kissed over the man's racing pulse, hearing distant sirens and screaming. "Give me the chance t'know you Hanzo, without the shadow of the clan hangin' over us. Without pretendin' t'be anything we ain't. Be a part of the life ya made for me, even as just my friend."

Jesse pulled back just enough to search Hanzo's face. Fear and hope written over the finely carved features, sparking in hungry eyes. A longing raw and powerful running between them on a golden cord. Even without the dragons, this close, they were connected in a way that couldn't be explained.

"I will stay."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it has been so long between updates. There has been a lot going on in my personal life this month and I've honestly been too depressed to write more serious pieces. 
> 
> Hopefully, I can get back to writing this fic more regularly and bring it to a satisfying conclusion.  
> Unbeta'd

“Promise, Sugar?” Jesse smiled weakly, tears threatening to overflow. Heart on fire, as bright as the flames licking up the wall from the dumpster. The dragons roaring and shrieking as they fought among the trash.

Hanzo looked down, a blush rising to the tops of his ears. “I will do my best.”

“Been missing you.” Jesse cupped the archer’s cheek, stroking his thumb against the smooth skin. “even when I didn’t know what I’d lost.”

“It has been… hard to live without you. I have missed your humor,” Hanzo’s voice shook before it turned into a cough.

The black smoke drifting over them. “What else?” Jesse managed to get to his feet, groaning in pain. He would definitely have bruises in the morning on his back and hips. 

“You would make me say such embarrassing things?”

“I think you owe me that much.” Jesse offered his hand and hauled Hanzo up. 

The sirens were getting closer, reminding him that they didn’t want to be here when the police showed up. He didn’t know how to explain fire by dragon in a way that didn’t get them through in a psych ward for monitoring.

He was already looking for an exit when Hanzo answered. Words warm and soft as he confessed, “I missed your laugh.”

“Really?” Jesse chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Shucks, now I'm the one that’s blushing.” 

Eva roared and surged out of the dumpster in a blast of blue light. Spiraling high into the sky, she cast the whole alley in blue. A matching coil of energy leapt after her, twisting and writhing together as lightning crashed above them.

A thunderstorm boiled in the night.

“We must go, now.”

“I agree, sug.” Jesse found his hand grabbed and he was yanked into a run. The alley streaking past them in dark smoke and crackling flames. People poured out back doors, screaming at the sight and taking video.

Fire trucks barreled into the parking lot, turning towards the alley. The blue and red lights flickering madly in the clouded air. Sirens drowning out the clamor of the crowds.

Jesse tugged Hanzo to the side, forcing himself to slow to a walk. He looped his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, pulling him tight to his side. They strolled through the chaos, heads down.

His hip burned where Hanzo’s hand rested, thumb rubbing maddeningly against his side. Making it hard to think as they avoided the throngs of people. He had luckily parked at the far end of the parking lot by the club. 

Police were starting to wrangle the crowds. Firetrucks setting up to keep the fire from spreading. Dragons dispersed into the rolling thunder and lightning. An electric energy sizzled in the air and they two men quietly slipped into the truck.

A quiet settled between them as the doors clicked shut. Jesse released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, coughing on the end. A warm hand on his back soothed the tension in his body that had caused it.

Jesse fought back the urge to laugh, resting his head on the steering wheel. "Shit... didn't know the dragons would... just attack each other like that. caused quite a ruckus."

"Hmm." Hanzo slumped against him. "they were not just fighting."

"Whatcha mean?" Jesse sighed, heart still beating too fast. He felt like a small lightning bolt was crashing around inside him. 

A soothing caress helped ease it as Hanzo rubbed his face over his shoulder. Calmness radiating from his friend's caress. The man's left arm was slung around Jesse's hips and he couldn't help but rest his weight against the archer.

"It is... awkward to say," Hanzo murmured, lips brushing the crest of his shoulder.

"How's that, sug?" Jesse breathed in deeply, pulling the golden essence of Hanzo into his lungs. He had missed this scent so much. He could drown in it. Bury himself inside the strong body pressed to perfectly against him.

"We should go," Hanzo's words ghosted over the curve of his throat. "The media will be here soon."

"I remember you being a mighty smart cookie," Jesse's voice sounded drugged in his own ears. A hazy golden feeling welling up from deep inside him, making it hard to think of anything but how good Hanzo felt.

Somehow, he managed to drag himself straight. The keys in his hand hot to the touch as he got them in the ignition. He didn't question how the man had gotten there, sure if he had taken a car it was hidden somewhere in the surrounding city. 

There was no way he was going to let Hanzo out of his sight to go get it. 

"Seat belt," he gave the man a pointed look.

"Just drive."

"We ain't moving till you're buckled up."

"Fine," Hanzo shrugged, dragging the belt around himself and clicking it in. "Now go before someone tips off the police they saw us exiting the club very quickly earlier."

"Brains and beauty," Jesse flashed his very best smile and put the truck in reverse. He took it nice and slow through the parking lot, avoiding the news vans pulling in. THere was a helicopter somewhere above them documenting the scene.

"You forgot something."

"Whats that?" Jesse grinned, not taking his eyes off the road. Merging onto the highway smoothly.

"Beauty, Brains, and Brawn," Hanzo left his arms as much as the truck would allow and flexed.

sweet baby Jesus, Jesse gulped, barely resisting the urge to pull over and grope the thick meaty weight of his biceps. "S-shucks, guess I did." he took a deep breath through his nose, willing the bulge in his jeans to go away. "I don't remember you being so cheeky."

"A lot has changed." Hanzo murmured, leaning his back and shoulder against the passenger door.

"I'm hoping I get the full story."

"Since you have not dropped to the floor in agony upon remembering me, I believe the prospect is good."

The city soon fell away to open fields and a peerless night sky. Clouds from the sudden thunderstorm blown away before rain could fall. It was soothing, to just drive with Hanzo next to him. Like a piece of himself was finally sliding into place.

The drive flowed by like water, weaving along the old roads and dusky fields.

 

-

 

Whiskey tumblers sweated on the porch boards, leaving rings on the dark wood. Fireflies darted past the little house in the country, twinkling like fallen stars. Clyde chased one across the lawn. Happy grumbles drifting back to the two men sitting on the edge of the porch.

Jesse breathed the tobacco smoke deep, holding it inside till it stung. It came out in a rush, gusting from his nose.

“May I?” Hanzo murmured, already plucking the cigarillo from between his lips.

“Sure.” Jesse’s eyes followed the bad habit to Hanzo’s mouth. It was sweet looking, a half smiling dancing on the edges. “Still never buy your own damn smokes.” His voice lacked any heat though, chuckling as he turned to watch Bonnie.

The smaller dog was creeping towards Hanzo’s feet. Belly low to the ground, she was trying her best not to be noticed.

“Ah.” Hanzo pulled it from his lips, guilt clear in his voice. “Old Habits die hard as you say.” He kept his eyes on the pasture, one hand dangling from his knee. Tempting the shy dog closer for a soft pet.

Jesse took the cig back, taking his time to savor the nicotine while he thought. Hesitation thick in his guts, not sure how to broach the subject. To get to the answers he really wanted. “Didn’t hurt ya too much when I lassoed you, did I?”

Hanzo snorted, starling Bonnie. She yipped and skittered back. “Is that what you really wanted to ask?” He rolled his eyes. “But… I do not think anything is broken.”

“Need me t’take a look?” he waggled his brows teasingly as his eyes dragged along Hanzo’s body.

“Perhaps later.” A flush of pink tinged his cheeks, not just from the alcohol. “If you allow me to inspect you as well.”

“Wantin’ to see how your investment paid off?” Jesse chuckled, looking down at his chest. The scar was still raised and an angry red but he had worse. Definitely better than being dead or chained to the Shimada Clan.

“Jesse…”

The gunslinger looked up, struck through the heart at the anguish in one simple word. “Oh shit, Han, I didn’t mean-“

“No, it is… it is alright.” Hanzo raised a hand, head down. “I did not mean to ‘come on you’ so strongly. It was rude of me when I am the cause of your injuries.”

Jesse nearly choked on his own tongue, coughing roughly. Tears tinged in the corners of his eyes, gasping for air. Hanzo looked on with concern which only made him laugh in the middle of the coughing fit. He struggled to get a full breath through the barks of mirth, wiping his face on his sleeve.

“What? What is so funny?” Hanzo glared at him, arms crossed over his chest. Back ridged and chin up like a damn prince.

“Oh honey,” Jesse managed to calm down some. Leaning back on his elbows on the porch. 

“What did I say?”

“Not tellin’,” Jesse snickered, taking a long drink to wet his mouth.

“I demand you tell me right now. If I have misspoken, I need to know to correct it.”

“Nope.” Jesse set the empty glass down. “you ain’t my boss anymore so I don’t have t’tell you anything.” He leaned close to Hanzo, loving the way the shorter man blushed and pulled back. “We’re on the same playing field now…”

“I have thought on it many times since Hanamura.”

“Yeah?” 

“Indeed.”

“What else you been thinking about?” Jesse asked, ignoring the way his dick was trying to stir. 

“That I hoped you were happy without me.” Hanzo was softening, his shoulders relaxing. A low chuckle stroked over his body like a physical thing. “And that I would survive to see you again.”

He nodded to himself, unconsciously rubbing the metal of his left arm. “I was wondering… what happened while I was busy living my life and leavin’ you to do all the dangerous work.” He gave his old friend an uncertain smile, not wanting to press too hard.

Hanzo stared at the ground beneath his feet for a long time. The crickets chirped and the grass rustled with a light breeze. Bonnie had somehow managed to get right below them in the flowerbed. Her fur covered in the soft dirt and bits of mulch.

Clyde was chasing something around in the tall grass, panting from her exertion. “Whatcha got, girl?” he called, watching her pounce with a growl. A sharp yip of pain immediately followed and Jesse was running towards his baby before the sound died.

“Woah girl, easy there,” he waved the dog back before turning to the flattened grass. “what did ya catch?” Hoping it wasn’t a porcupine or a skunk, he approached the spot cautiously. Figuring the creature would be gone before he could actually get close.

Instead, the long strands parted and a large harassed looking dragon stuck his head out. He was slightly smaller than Eva but the fur around his jowls and horns was fluffier. “Shit.” Jesse straightened up, pushing his cowboy hat back on his head with one finger.

“This is… unusual,” Hanzo agreed, suddenly at his side. He spoke in Japanese, with a tone that demanded to be obeyed. A prickle ran down Jesse’s spine, remembering that same one used on him in the past. Hanzo frowned sharply at the glowing blue beast. 

It was only a few feet long but full of razor sharp teeth and talons. The ancient spirit hissed.

Jesse stepped back, trying to tug Hanzo away from danger. His hand was shaken off and he shrugged. Eva had never looked so pissed off and grumpy.

A calming feeling drifted gently over him, blue light soft on his cheek. The larger dragon walked along his shoulders, kneading softly like a cat. “Hey, sweetheart,” he carefully reached up to feel just where she was. His fingertip was gently mouthed and then given a lick.

He is tired from fighting alone so long, the words slithered through his head. 

Hanzo looked between the two dragons, mouth hanging open slightly. “They…” the archer slowly sat down on the ground, kneeling on his knees. “Haku… where is your honor?” he hissed at the dragon now cautiously wading into his lap.

Clyde was staring at it curiously, head tilted to the side. The dragon raised he’s head to look back at her.

“So… you gonna fill me in?” Jesse lowered his bulk to the ground. Eva rumbling as she draped herself around his shoulders and neck. “Cuz… I didn’t’ they did this.”

“They do not,” Hanzo glared at the noddle in his lap. “They should return to me.”

“Aw, even Eva?” Jesse casually stroked the dragon’s snoot. She shoved her face aggressively into his hand for more. 

“Yes, even her.”

“Why?” Jesse was already getting attached to the little blue baby. Clyde shuffled forward, resting her nose on Jesse’s thigh. He began to use his free hand to stroke her head. “She’s not hurtin’ anything. That one looks kinda mean though.”

“They are ancient, destructive forces of nature! They should not be lounging about… having fun.”

“Sounds like somethin’ you used t’say,” Jesse pointed out, laughing as Eva licked his cheek. Her tongue was rough and dry. She seemed very interested in his scruff. 

Hanzo sighed, some of the indignation draining from his shoulders. “You may be correct,” the solemn man wiggled his fingers through the beast trying to fit on his lap. “They have just united after a long time apart. Perhaps they deserve time to enjoy their physical forms together.”

“Sounds like they’re fuckin’,” Jesse laughed, getting claws dug into his shoulder in protest at the movement. “You be good,” he reached up to boop the dragon on her cold wet nose tip. 

Hanzo wouldn’t meet his eye, suddenly very interested in the pasture. The bob of his Adam's apple was highlighted by the moonlight. It needed to be kissed, immediately if possible. Jesse’s gaze sliding over the pretty column of Hanzo’s throat. It would be so beautiful marked up by his mouth, sucked and bitten till the man was gasping.

Eva purred in his ear, grinding her long neck against his cheekbone. 

“Hanzo?” he tried to focus, chewing on his bottom lip. “You still with me?”

Eva dripped off his shoulder. Coiling in the grass with effortless grace, she stared at her mate. 

Moonlight danced on the plumpness of Hanzo’s lips and highlighted the round swell of his chest through the thin shirt. Jesse’s mouth was dry, heart loud in his ears.

Hanzo pushed the dragon off his lap and stood suddenly. Jesse could only stare, ignoring the dragons for a moment. All he could see were Hanzo’s thighs in the sinfully tight jeans. He ached to sink between them.

“We should go inside,” Hanzo’s voice was low and dark. “Before they get started.”

Eva snuggled around her mate, licking his face softly. Their long bodies twining and the smaller dragon gave a low keen.

“Fuck,” Jesse jumped to his feet. “That’s shit I don’t need t’see.” He pointed a finger at the spirit beasts beginning their dance with one hand and grabbing Hanzo’s with the other. It sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine. His skin burned where it touched Hanzo’s, chest constricting with raw desire.

It began to lessen as they made it inside the house and closed the door. The distance cooling off the heady rush. It still burned low in his guts, the desire to lay with his mate and kiss away the lines around his eyes.

There was more white in his hair than before, a bright shock at each temple. 

“You are staring, Jesse.”

The cowboy gulped, tearing his eyes away. “It like this when… that was… intense,” Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. It had only been a minute or so but the rush, the animalistic desire made his knees feel weak. 

“I do not now,” Hanzo dragged his hands down his face. “I have never had a mate before.”

“You mean you’re a—“

“Idiot.” A firm punch in the shoulder made Jesse laugh. “I have bedded my share of men and women. I have never had a bonded partner.”

“And that means what exactly?” Jesse rubbed the ache in his arm, a strange tingling filled his head. It felt like a memory almost, like he had known that they were tied together. deadlock, he blinked dumbly, missing whatever Hanzo was saying. The gang had taken Hanzo, held him and tortured them both and he had broken out. Jesse had risked his life to go back at the Dragon's urging. They had led him to the man and allowed Jesse to command them.

“Jesse?”

The gunslinger came back in a rush, suddenly sitting on the couch with a glass of water in his hands. Hanzo was on the sofa with him, a hand on his thigh, right above his knee. It was so warm.

“Sorry, was just remembering somethin’.” He sipped the water, making a grateful sound. His throat felt raw like he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been. “I… took you home t’meet my family?”

“Ah… So you have not remembered everything,” Hanzo eased back, moving to the other side of the couch. Jesse wished he would come back. “We needed to inform your family or our… agreement and it was safer to do it in person.”

Warm firelight on his face, casting the sharp angles of his face in gold. A bit of marshmallow stuck in his beard, dancing as he talked. Adoration shining in the darkness of his eyes as Jesse sang.

“You are my sunshine,” Jesse murmured, a flush of heat running from the top of his head to his toes.

“My only sunshine,” Hanzo hummed it back, head tilted to the side in question.

“you… something happened between us that night,” he struggled to bring the details back but he only grasped fragments. He had loved Hanzo then and they had almost burst into flames so many times. When had things gotten so complicated? Why hadn’t they just been honest with each other?

“It almost did because I was a fool. Perhaps I still am one.” The words were spoken with a sorrowful grin. “I loved you then but it would not have been right to reciprocate. I was your boss. I held your life in my hands and the whole of the clan gnashed their teeth. It was… unfair of me to lead you on.”

Jesse leaned back, a headache threatening to grow between his eyes and a thunderstorm in his chest. Emotions raced by in a blur, too fast to hold onto. He looked into Hanzo’s eyes, searching for answers.

Hanzo above him, face flushed with liquid courage, and the rock of their hips together. Hanzo’s hand under his shirt, squeezing his chest and —

“Never heard me complaining’,” Jesse took an unsteady breath. “I think I woulda gladly let ya slit my throat for a chance to have you beneath me.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes but his smile was soft. “You are as crude as ever.”

“I think you like that about me.”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo shook his head. “You have not changed in that regard, cocky as ever.”

Jesse studied the man in front of him, finding all kinds of new and interesting details. He eased closer on the couch, their legs brushing. His body humming with pleasure just to be touching Hanzo, like all the painful static always scattered along his nerves were easing into his partner instead.

“So you gonna tell me what you were up to all this time while I was remaining a cocky bastard? Cuz I seem to remember a whole bunch of ninjas wantin’ to kill me and probably you too now that I think about it.”

“I do not want to trigger another episode,” Hanzo’s dark eyes were searching his face.

“I’ll let ya know if things get too intense.”

“Very well,” Hanzo turned his gaze to the empty fireplace and his voice was monotone as he began. “My first priority was to get you stabilized and moved to a medical facility. you were kept in cryo-sleep until I found someone that would be able to repair the damage and keep you alive. It took several weeks to prepare a safe house.” Hanzo gestured to the room around them. “With funds untraceable to me, with no one else knowing where you were. I could not come with you or visit you in the hospital but you were always in good hands.”

Jesse whistled. “So…Dr. Ziegler and everyone knew?” 

“Only the doctor was aware of the situation and her nurse.”

Jesse leaned deeper into Hanzo’s presence, their shoulders pressed together. “It was… real strange waking up not knowing anything. I don’t remember too much, had me in a coma a good bit. But I remember one thing.” He watched the man’s face from the corner of his eye. “Someone sent me flowers, something fresh and growing in the sterile hell.”

“Did you enjoy them?” Hanzo's head settled on his shoulder. It felt so right he couldn’t deny it or the way it made his chest warm. This was familiar, this had been them before.

“They were real pretty, purple and yellow ones.”

“Do you know what they meant?”

“Meant?” Jesse found his head tilting till it rested against the top of Hanzo’s. “Flowers got meanings now? Other than like… roses meaning ‘I love you. please let me get on m’knees for you.”

“Not those types of meanings.” Hanzo chuckled. “Though I am amused by your rather generous interpretation of a bouquet of roses. The flowers I sent you had a… more somber meaning. They were to ask for forgiveness.”

“Well, I didn’t know that,” Jesse shrugged lightly, somehow not surprised. “They were real nice though, brightened the hospital room up. and you’re trying real hard not t’tell me what You were doing.”

“You are more observant than ever.” Hanzo’s hands twisted together, worrying the edge of his thumbnail. “It is not something I wish to dwell on. I have done things that would once have destroyed me. Now I find myself sitting on the other side and can not find within myself the guilt I know belongs there.”

“Tell me, Hanners,” Jesse carefully, moving as if Hanzo was a wild animal, to take the archer’s hands and pull them apart. He laced his with Hanzo’s fingers, offering support in the only real way he knew how. 

The man began slowly, in bits and pieces between long pauses to tell Jesse of what had happened. Jesse did his best to remain silent, listening and offering what support he could. Mostly he just stared at their joined hands.

Hanzo had overthrown his entire clan with the help of his brother. Together, they had cleansed it in fire and blood over the year. Jesse just bumbling around the farm like a useless idiot while the Shimada brothers gutted the clan of old blood. The elders and their influence had been irradiated.

The Shimada’s businesses were being brought out of the dark and slowly shifting to more legal avenues. When Jesse asked about the power vacuum it would create, he was assured that had been taken care of.

Some old habits die hard.

“That’s why you were hanging around here?” Jesse grinned widely, a thrill of much-needed excitement zipping down his spine.“You’re hunting?”

“I have never approved of that term,” Hanzo snorted, voice gaining some warmth. “But yes.”

“You thinking sniper rifle or up close and personal.” Jesse was itching for more, for something. He needed something more interesting than just taking care of the farm and there was no one he’d rather hunt with.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Bending the Arrow C 15

 

“I will use Stormbow to eliminate the guards on the outside. Close combat will be necessary to clear the house.” The light in Hanzo’s eyes was growing brighter as he spoke. “It will not be an easy task.”

“Why are you going after them?” Jesse couldn’t stop the wolfish grin as he bubbled with excitement. “These part of the Shimada clan?”

“No.” A deep, soul searing chuckle made Jesse’s heart flutter. “Heroin dealers. They are about to release a new more addictive strain into the public. It will be a public health crisis and the town is not equipped to deal with it.”

“Seems like you’re on a different side now?” Jesse remembered being in a smoky gambling den trying to find out just who was dealing on the streets of Japan without paying the Shimada Clan for the privilege.”

“I never approved of the drug trade. It is a menace.” Hanzo rolled his shoulders, the thick layers of muscle rippling under the tight shirt. “I was alerted to the new Kitchen and will take it down.”

“Who alerted you?” Jesse had a guess but he wanted to confirm. His hand itched for the smooth handle of Peacekeeper and he missed the weight of the gun on his hip. 

Hanzo deadpanned at him.

“Mabel?”

“Yes. The dealers are connected to the Shimada Clan. She was able to track them without raising suspicions.”

“Figures, she always did have a bad habit of going outside the law.” Jesse smirked, swelling with pride. “She used t’send me on these types of missions.”

“Ah,” Hanzo looked away, “She has kept me busy.”

Jesse nodded, squeezing Hanzo’s hands in his own. The living room feeling small and close now, the dogs asleep at their feet and the dragons coiled around them in a heap. It was surreal. “Why are you doin’ this Hanzo? This ain’t your fight?” Jesse studied the shorter man, finding it hard to look away.

“Atonement.”

“For what happened t’me?” 

“For what I allowed to happen to the people of japan under the Elder’s iron fist. I may have upheld my duty to the Clan but I failed the people I should have protected.” Hanzo’s eyes were steady and clear and Jesse could have drowned in them. “I will use my strength to undo the wrongs I have created.”

“Then let’s go kill us some drug dealers.” Jesse squeezed Hanzo’s hands before releasing them. He stood, moving with restless energy. “Figure we’ll need a day or two t’get supplies and maybe run me through some combat exercises. I need to brush up, not sure how much my body remembers.”

“It is not that simple.” Hanzo rose to his feet as well. “It is a dangerous mission, Jesse. You are not field ready.”

“Hey,” Jesse rumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was damn good before. I think.” Hanzo looked at him flatly. “Okay so maybe I need some refresher courses and—“

“You do not even have Peacekeeper or Deadeye.”

“Hey, don’t throw that in my face.” Jesse huffed, remembering some of what DeadEye was and the pain it brought. “I got a dragon now, that’s gotta make up for it.”

“you have one of my dragons,” Hanzo corrected. “I have not been able to summon them while they were separated. I am not sure how it will work.”

“So we need some practice and a training run.”

“Possibly.” Hanzo stroked his neatly trimmed beard. “I can reunite you with Peacekeeper—“

“Really?” Jesse cut him off, buzzing with excitement. “You got her out safe too?”

“Yes. I have her in my suitcase back at my base.”

“Let’s go get her!”

“Jesse, it is three in the morning. We should rest.”

The gunslinger sighed, shoulders slumping. “You’re right, of course.”

“Some things do not change,” Hanzo chuckled before Jesse was knocked lightly in the shoulder. “But tell me, Jesse. Does this house have a guest room?”

“Whatcha talkin’ about? you built this place. you know.” Jesse ran a hand through his hair, wondering if the sheets were dusty in the main extra bedroom. He never went in there.

“Perhaps, I am tired of sleeping alone.”

Jesse froze, eyes wide and mouth dry as Hanzo stepped close. “Are you now?”

“I would enjoy the company of another body next to mine.” Hanzo’s hand drifted to Jesse’s chest, right over the scar. “I have missed the comfort of your heat in the night. Like those nights at your mother’s farm when we held each other close.”

Jesse’s mind struggled to keep up, memories streaming by in a golden light. The night at the bonfire, the lazy nights curled close as unsaid feelings struggled to rise. The feeling of Hanzo under him on the bedroom floor in a tangle of blankets as the man dared him to close the gap between them. 

He felt dizzy as the flashes of the past kept coming, feeding the chickens and getting eggs. Hanzo running with a startled yelp as a rooster jumped from a bush and attacked his ankles. The way his mama had held them both in a hug. The pretending sharp and painful under the thrum of desire when they sparred in the dojo and the way Hanzo had blushed so darkly.

“I can’t believe I ever thought you were straight,” the words popped out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“You certainly made no effort to hide your attraction to me,” Hanzo snorted. The brush of his thumb against Jesse’s chest sent his mind swirling again. “Do you still feel it?”

Jesse closed his eyes, trying to think with Hanzo teasing him. “I wanna have you beneath me, i can’t deny it.” the tightness in his jeans was making that more obvious. “But… I still feel like I barely know you. Even before, you were… someone else, if that makes sense?”

“I have not been able to be completely myself until now,” Hanzo nodded but Jesse could feel his eyes on his mouth. “I understand if you desire to be only companions. I cannot expect to be forgiven and granted another chance.” Hanzo stepped closer, their breath suddenly mingling. “But I would gladly get on my knees for you.”

Jesse bit back a groan, every nerve ending suddenly on fire. Molten gold lust filled him up, threading through his veins. “You don’t… have t’do that Hanzo. Don’t want ya t’feel like ya gotta do it just t’get me t’forgive you or nothing—“ He struggled to think as Hanzo closed the gap between them, pressing their hips flush. Jesse’s breath staggered, hissing between clenched teeth as Hanzo ground ever so lightly into his straining need.

“I have wanted to have you for so long. I have missed you so much Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice was smoldering and dark in his ears. “I know you have not missed me, that you do not know me. You desire me to stay, to be a part of your life?”

Jesse nodded, struggling to get his tongue working. “I… I’m glad you agreed t’stay. My memories keep comin’ back and I wanna make more with you.” He twitched as Hanzo lazily rutted into him. “And as much as I’d love t’have your handsome face lookin’ up at me with a mouthful of my cock—“ i’m fucking insane to turn this down. “I don’t wanna mess this up. I wanna… i wanna do it right. Get t’know the real you and get back to the real me. I ain’t felt this alive, this focused in all the time we were apart. I wanna hunt with you, fight with you and find out how we fit together.”

Jesse raised a hand, gently cupping the side of Hanzo’s face. Running a thumb along the finely cut edge of his cheekbone, he forced their eyes to lock. “Hanzo Shimada, I wanna court ya right.”

Hanzo’s face was unreadable, closed off and serene as the words processed. 

Jesse began to fear he had made a mistake, gut boiling with anxiety.

It disappeared in a burst of butterflies when Hanzo smiled, so brightly it made the world fall away.

 

—

 

The summer breeze wafted over the little bit of heaven, bringing the sweetness of sunshine and the hint of a thunderstorm brewing somewhere to the south. Bonnie and Clyde chased grasshoppers through the tall prairie grass but the dragons seemed content to lay in the shade and observe them.

Jesse grunted as he was slammed into the grass for the fourth time that morning. “Fuck! you always been this fast?” He barely managed to roll out of the way of a kick in time. Hanzo caught him and shoved his face down into the grass, a heavy weight thumping into his lower back. Hanzo sitting on him like he was a pony.

“You have gotten very slow. You will be eaten alive at this rate.”The grip in his hair loosened. “But you are getting better very fast.”

“Muscle memory and all that,” Jesse huffed a bit of chaff away. “You gonna get off of me or what?”

“Make me. I have already given you several opportunities to do so.” Hanzo’s smirk clear in his voice and Jesse rumbled.

He wasn’t as fast or as skilled as Hanzo but he did have the advantage of raw power and weight. Ways to break away and flip the tables flashed through his mind. He could put Hanzo in his place and wipe that smile off his face. Or he could make Hanzo laugh. He gathered his strength and pressed up, getting on all fours.

Hanzo grunted in surprise, the sound quickly turning into a laugh. Jesse shuffled forward, carrying Hanzo around. 

“You are ridiculous.”

“You like it.”

“Perhaps.”

Jesse smirked to himself, enjoying the firm ass and powerful thighs pressing into him. He let Hanzo relax, thinking he was just playing, and then he reared up with a whiny and dumped the assassin on his ass.

The dragons howled in amusement from the shade of an oak tree and Hanzo roared with laughter. 

Jesse chuckled, using the break to pounce on the man. They tumbled back into the grass, struggling in each other arms. Twisting and turning, they played for power and control as Hanzo lead him through a series of holds. 

They wrestled and fought until they were both drenched in sweat and the sun high in the sky. Muscles shaking and lungs on fire, Jesse finally called uncle. “you’re a damn good teacher Hanzo,” he panted, leading the way up the front porch steps. “Give me a few more rounds like that and I’ll be ready to head into the field in no time.”

“I doubt that,” Hanzo smirked. “You have a long ways to go. But with the addition of peacekeeper, I do not foresee you needing to ‘go to the mats’ on this particular mission.”

“True, take’em down together. You working the long and I'll take the medium. Won’t need t’get too close.” Jesse went to grab them water bottles from the fridge. “and speakin’ of getting a gun…”

“We should go into town to retrieve Peacekeeper and my car.”

“Shit, is it at the bar still?”

“Of course not.” Hanzo shook his head, making the short ribbon in his hair sway. He cracked the bottle open and took a greedy gulp.

Jesse stared in fascination as the drops fell from his mouth to his throat and chest. The heavy muscles straining the damp white fabric of his shirt. His tattoo was visible, a swirling dragon tearing open the sky.

“Am I gonna get one of those?” Jesse managed to ask, hiding the snarl of desire in his core with a long sip of water.

“I assumed you already had.” Hanzo set the bottle down in surprise. “Has one not appeared?”

“Uh,” Jesse looked down at himself. “Well, least not on the parts I can see.”

“perhaps you need a proper inspection.”

“You tryin’ t’get me in bed again?” Jesse teased, looking down at his sweaty dirty front. “It’s gotta be on my back, if i do got one.”

“You have not been with any partners?” Hanzo set his bottle down and motioned for him to turn around.

“Seems a personal question.” Jesse shrugged, presenting his board muscular back to Hanzo. “But nah, just never seemed t’find someone that felt right.”

“Hmm, may I remove your shirt?”

“Yeah, go for it. You really think i got my own dragon tattoo?” It sent a thrill down his spine and gave the whole “Marked by the Dragon” line Hanzo had been saying for ages. 

“It is… customary, for the tattoo to manifest once he or she has been accepted.”

Hanzo’s fingers sent ripples through Jesse, the light brush along his hips weakened his knees. The shirt crept up his back by degrees and Hanzo’s warmth filled the space. “Jesse…” Hanzo’s hand ran up his spine, taking his shirt with it. “It’s a beautiful tattoo.”

“Really? Damn,” he tried to look over his shoulder to see it. Heart jumping wildly in his chest, how was it possible that he had a tattoo, and not a small one. Not if the path of fHanzo’s finger over the expanse of his backwas any way to judge.

The larger dragon raised her head. 

“Does it look like Eva?” Jesse stepped away from Hanzo, heading for the bathroom. He had to get a lot at this.

“It bares some small resemblance but I believe that will change soon.”

“Whatcha mean?” Jesse pulled open the bottom drawer. He had a hand mirror in here somewhere. The large blue dragon and Hanzo slithered into the medium sized room. Hanzo was smirking, leaning against the doorframe.

Eva was larger than normal, her front paws on the counter sink and large square head reaching to towards his face. Jesse leaned down, letting the dragon snuffle his hair and lick his cheek affectionately. He reached down to scratch around her eyes where her scales got dry sometimes. 

“Gonna have a pretty picture of you on my back,” Jesse gave her a little kiss on the cheek by her fur.

you already do, she purred back, using her clawed hands to push the mirror over.

“Okay, Okay,” Jesse laughed, turning his back to the large mirror and using the small one to see what had been riding on his back this whole time. It took him a moment to get the angle and whistled as soon as he saw it.

It was a massive snarling dragon, a red dragon. Massive antlers swept back from her face, shimmering in golden tones and claws slashed at the viewer. Her eyes burned like hot coals. “Fucking shit… that’s badass,” Jesse couldn’t tear his eyes way from the swirling red clouds that mimicked the ones on Hanzo’s arm. “But it doesn’t look like Eva—“

He cut off with a sharp intake of breath. The dragon at his side was no longer blue but a shimmering mass of red and gold. A low chirping sound showed her amusement.

“She looks good on you,” Hanzo’s voice was thick with awe. “Not all dragons change to match their hosts. it is an honored to be shown such respect by the spirit.”

 

—

 

Night had fallen on a small city two hundred miles away from Jesse’s farm. Fireflies danced in the yard of a large two story home that sat far back from the road behind an eight foot fence covered in thorny hedges. Men in all black were stationed at strategic points around the property, some holding automatic assault rifles and others using smaller artillery. 

The air buzzed with energy, between the two men laying on the roof of the nearest neighbors treehouse. The family was happily enjoying a late night movie in the living room with the curtains open. The high hedges gave a sense of privacy and security they did not have. It had been easy to use the large rose bushes for cover and scale the rope ladder. there had been a moment of awkwardness as they squeezed through one of the windows to climb onto the roof. Mainly, Jesse’s shoulders almost got stuck and Hanzo had to shove on his ass to force him through.

Jesse peered through the binoculars, tracking the movement of a large bald man with an assault rifle on the second story balcony. “You seen the target yet?” Jesse murmured without taking his eyes off the house. 

They had been laying for almost two hours. Sweating in all black gear despite the summer night breeze. 

“He is in the far right room. There is someone with him.”

Jesse turned his eyes to the room, only seeing a beautiful woman lounging in the window seat. “how you so sure he’s in there?”

Hanzo shrugged, beginning to assemble Stormbow. Even in the dark, he did it with quiet efficiency. “I have seen the woman before. She is one of his favorites. if she is here, he is in the room.”

“Don’t we need t’wait for visual confirmation?” Jesse wasn’t ready to burst in killing if there was just a chance that the drug dealer Denay was in there.

As if on cue, the swarthy man in question stepped into the window to wrap his arms around the pretty blond and they both disappeared into the room. 

“How many civilians?”

“Five.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo hummed. “The woman, three staff members and a poodle.”

“Poodle?”

“The dog is innocent.” Hanzo pulled back stormbow’s string, testing it. “I told you this would not be an easy mission.” He settled into his favorite long shot stance, breathing deeply and slowly.

Jesse climbed to his feet, testing the hold on his ammo belt. Heavy leather chaps would help protect his legs and a bandolier of rounds for peacekeeper hung across his chest. Chest armor and a black serape would hide the glimmers from the metal of his arm. 

“How does Deadeye feel?”

“No activity,” Jesse blinked slowly, wondering if the pain would come rushing back but there was nothing.

“How is Eva?”

Jesse took a moment, breathing into the pit of his stomach as he called to the dragon that lived in him. At first there was no response and fear threatened to rise. Then her comforting presence was all around him, warm as a summer sun. Full of energy and power, it welled up inside him and filled every inch full of light.

"We're ready to hunt.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Tevokkia for editing this!

Jesse wiped blood from his cheek with the back of his flesh hand. It wasn’t his. “Hanzo, am I clear t’go?” he murmured into his com, and took a peek around the corner. The hallway seemed empty but there were too many doors opening off it to just rush in.

“Third door on the right, two men.” Hanzo’s voice was sharp and precise. “I am moving to the balcony, southeast corner.”

“Got it.” Jesse rolled his shoulders, trying to keep loose. It had been easy, frighteningly easy, to invade the compound and house. He had killed or incapacitated four men already, and there had been no hesitation to pull the trigger. It should have bothered him or given him pause, but no remorse came as he stalked down the hall, counting the doors, and the moment faded into a strange, ruthless energy.

Eva rippled on his back, surging down his right arm to coil through Peacekeeper and then back to her mark. _You feeling good, Sunshine?_ He directed his attention to the third door on the right. There was no signs of movement when he paused to listen: the men either hadn’t heard the commotion and shouting, or were hiding.

Jesse double-checked that Peacekeeper was ready before he kicked the door in with a roar. Shots rang in the air and Jesse rolled out of the way. He popped up from behind a couch, finding the two figures in the dark. They fell before they could fire again, the burning of gunpowder and blood bubbling in the air.

The gunslinger took a moment to double-check his kills. They wouldn’t be getting up again. He grabbed both of their pistols, sliding them into the back of his trousers. A quick pat-down found their stashes of heroin and a fat wad of cash between them.

Jesse pocketed it the money out of habit and dumped the drugs into a half-empty cup of coffee on the low table by the couch.

“Threat neutralized in the hall.” He reloaded Peacekeeper and headed into the corridor.

“Denay has retreated into the panic room.”

“Where you at?”

“Headed for your location. Hostiles incoming.”

“Sounds good, Sugar.” Jesse ducked into another room off the hall, confirming each was empty as he made his way slowly towards the panic room. “You got eyes on the civilians?”

“The servants have fled. He took the woman and poodle into the safe room with him.”

“What’s the plan?” Jesse wiped sweat off his brow, the air conditioning not enough to cool the fires burning in his chest. Or maybe it was Eva, swirling in his mind, raging to be released.

 _It’s okay, Eva._ He tried to direct his thoughts inwards as he moved deeper into the house. _We’re gonna get him still._

 _He deserves to be torn apart by my jaws,_ the dragon’s voice reverberated inside Jesse’s skull. _He is using the woman as a shield. We will have to be careful._

 _How do you know that?_ Jesse could hear footsteps in the hall, too heavy to be Hanzo’s.

 _My mate sees them,_ she offered. The next moment she poured out of Jesse like water, dripping from the tips of his fingers to manifest. Her form coalesced in clouds of red smoke before settling into a physical presence, her shoulders coming up to Jesse’s hip and her maw opened with a crackling snarl.

 _What are you doing?_ Jesse thought at her, not daring to make any noise as the guards paused right outside the door.

“Intruder spotted in the east hall!” A deep voice bellowed and the night exploded into gunfire.

“Hanzo!” Jesse’s mind blanked red and he lunged for the door. It burst open, clipping one guard in the shoulder and sending him flying. Eva was a streak of red and gold as she pounced with a roar.

Blood flew through the air in a haze and Jesse threw himself at the second guard. They went down with a blast of bullets. A sharp blow, and then they rolled. The bigger man got in a punch, and Jesse’s ribs ached under his armor.

The gunslinger whipped Peacekeeper at his head.

The third guard brought the butt of his rifle down hard, and Jesse screamed. His hand released under the breaking pressure and Peacekeeper went flying. She landed with a clatter, bullets flying everywhere.

“Jesse!”

Hanzo’s voice was electric, coursing into Jesse like a thousand volts. The barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead, and he looked into the ice blue eyes of his attacker. “Don’t go threatening’ a man’s mug, especially when it’s as pretty as mine.”

“What the fuck you talking about?” The brute forced Jesse’s head back, pinning him to the floor. “What the fuck was that thing?” Fear colored the words, the man’s eyes lifting to look for the dragon.

The arrow took him through the temple and he fell forward.

Jesse rolled out of the way with a laugh. “Nice shot!”

Hanzo jogged down the hall, feet making a soft tap, tap, tap on the floors. “You are foolish as ever,” Hanzo chuckled, and helped Jesse to his feet. “But I appreciate that you would throw yourself into danger to help me.”

Jesse couldn’t take his eyes off Hanzo, barely registering the words. The man’s powerful shoulders strained the tight black shirt, and the heavy muscle of his chest was captivating. _His nipples are hard._ Jesse swallowed as the archer looked up at him, head tilted to the side.

“Jesse…” Hanzo’s gloved hand drifted onto Jesse’s neck. “Do you know what I have always wished to do with you?”

Jesse’s mouth went dry and he bit back a groan. “Do tell, Sweetheart.”

Hanzo leaned closer until there was only a sliver of space, and then suddenly none. “I want to take you dancing. To feel your body moving against mine in the heat and fervor of music with no care for who sees.”

Hanzo rolled his hips in a slow undulation, making his need known. The hardness was just as impressive as Jesse remembered, and he quickly turned the tables. Just a simple twist, and Jesse pushed Hanzo up against the wall.

Their hands joined above the shorter man’s head, pressed tight to the cool surface. Desire thick in his blood, Jesse struggled to form words. He leaned closer, eyes locked with Hanzo’s, all the air gone from the corridor.

Jesse could feel Hanzo’s breath on his lips and the scratch of his beard on his own. “I wanna dance with you all night.”

“Then let us finish this quickly,” Hanzo murmured, voice dark and tempting. Each word was slightly tilted by his accent, begging to be tasted.

“Couldn’t agree more, Darlin’.”

 

-

 

“You look mighty fine,” Jesse drawled, leaning against the door frame in his home several nights later. Denay and the remains of his crew had been taken into custody after an anonymous tip gave the police reason to storm the compound.

Hanzo’s chuckle wiped all thoughts of violence and turmoil out of his mind. The archer walked towards Jesse, his deep blue shirt unbuttoned dangerously low, the gorgeous muscle of his chest just barely visible, and slacks impeccably tailored. His trim waist only made the pure beefcake more delicious.

“Stop drooling.”

Jesse gulped and reached a hand to his mouth before realizing Hanzo was joking. He might have believed it, riveted by Hanzo’s new easy confidence. “Can hardly blame a man.” Jesse couldn’t stop himself, hands sliding over the hard line of Hanzo’s hips. He tugged him closer, not quite touching.

“You look very handsome tonight, Jesse,” Hanzo murmured as his arms slid around Jesse’s neck. “But you have always been a threat to my heart when you wear black.”

“R-Really now?” Jesse swallowed a crack in his voice, tilting his head down. Their foreheads just barely touching. “Coulda’ fooled me.”

“As if that is hard.” Hanzo’s tone had no bite in it. “Do you think I did not long for you to grow tired of my teasing and shove me down and take what I offered?”

Jesse’s hands slid lower on the archer’s hips, finger tips splayed to cover just the beginning of his ass. “You wanted t’drive me that crazy, huh?” Jesse hummed low in his chest, gently guiding them into a sway. “Almost got more than you could handle a couple times, I gotta admit.”

“You remember?”

Jesse lowered his head,  brushing his lips over the shell of Hanzo’s ear. “I remember you under me in my old bedroom. How perfect you were, all red and flushed. How much you liked me holding you down and taking what I wanted.” Heat burned through Jesse, from his toes to the top of his head. He pawed up Hanzo’s back, dragging his shirt up. “I didn’t get t’taste you before.”

They danced slowly in the hall, swaying in little circles. Hanzo’s hands dripped down his back, fingernails digging every so lightly into Jesse’s back. “Perhaps you may.” Hanzo’s voice was unsteady. “If you impress me with your dance moves.”

“You’re still such a tease,” Jesse laughed, husky and rough. “But you’re right, be a shame for you to get all dressed up and not take you out and show you off.”

“I was thinking the same. I will make Buck jealous he didn’t take you when he had the chance.”

“What?” Jesse cocked his head to the side, leaning back to take in his partner’s face. “Hanzo, are you jealous?”

“No.”

“He’s just my friend, I haven’t even danced with him in months,” Jesse laughed, shaking his head. “There was nothing between us. He just… wasn’t you.”

 

—

 

Heavy, rhythmic beats filled the club, surging in time with the bodies all around them. The air was thick with cologne and aftershave and strong bodies moved to the music: it was animalistic, unleashing something deep inside Jesse in a way he hadn’t felt in so long.

Hanzo seemed on fire, deadly as a dragon. His eyes caught the magenta light, flashing with a magnetic pull that had Jesse mesmerized. The years had fallen away, and they jumped to the beat with the same roar as the crowd, the band picking up the pace as waves of smoke rolled out onto the dance floor.

Jesse couldn’t stop from laughing as he dragged Hanzo tight to his chest. “Least we ain’t the cause of the smoke this time.” They swayed together for a moment, ignoring the swirling crowd of bodies. “And I’m not dancing with someone else tryin’ to make you jealous.”

“This is very true.” Hanzo’s eyes danced with lightning and Jesse yelped as his ass was squeezed hard. “Only I will be making you hard tonight.”

“Fuck, Baby, you’re halfway there already.” Jesse ground into Hanzo, growling with satisfaction at the friction. He needed more, rolling his body in time with the throbbing bass, and Hanzo met him with eagerness. The soft thrusts fogged Jesse’s mind, the world zeroing in on the jointing of their bodies. Hanzo felt so good in his arms, just the right size. So sturdy and strong, Jesse didn’t fear he would hurt him. Hanzo could take anything he had to give and more, and give it just as well.

It sent a thrill of excitement through Jesse, imagining sinking into Hanzo’s welcoming body, and being bent over himself, the idea new and interesting as Hanzo turned around in his grip.

A groan of pure desire left his lips and dripped onto the back Hanzo’s neck. “Fuck baby, god damn, your ass is… is so perfect,” he panted weakly. Hanzo arched his back, grinding the muscles of his ass  hard into Jesse’s need and fitting him perfectly between the round perky cheeks in a slow stroke.Jesse struggled to remember how to breath, going with instinct. His hands locked around Hanzo’s hips, fingertips digging into the delicate flesh of his front, just below his belt.

“Is this what you like, Jesse? My ass on you?”

Jesse nodded weakly.

“Do you enjoy it when I do this?” Hanzo gyrated on his lap, sending him whimpering for more. “Imagine how i would feel, pressed into the sheets below you.” Hanzo rippled with he beat, arms arching back to sling over Jesse’s neck. He curled forward, looking up with his knees slightly bent. He couldn’t think straight: it was only Hanzo’s body on his. He buried his face in the man’s neck, huffing the rich scent of sweat and cologne greedily. He kissed the heated skin, flicking his tongue out to taste. It was just as good as he imagined, and he brushed into the promising hardness of Hanzo’s body.

“I wanna kiss you, so bad,” he moaned, the heat and the beat of the music overwhelming his senses. He needed more of his partner, needed to drown in him.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Hanzo laughed, accenting the question with a roll of his hips.

“I don’t know,” Jesse admitted, nosing along the curve of Hanzo’s ear. He littered kisses along the heated skin, loving the soft tickle of Hanzo’s wings on his cheek. “I’m so glad you grew these back. I just love them.”

“I enjoyed the buzz cut but it was too distinctive.” Hanzo was twisting in his grip, bringing them suddenly face to face again. “And there is more hair to hold onto now.”

“Oh yeah? You like having your hair pulled?” Jesse chuckled, heat boiling in his groin. The crush of his tight jeans over his cock was almost painful. He slid a hand up Hanzo’s neck and into the high ponytail. It was much longer than it had been before, and Jesse wrapped it around his fist. “Do you like this?” he tugged gently, forcing Hanzo’s face to rise. His dark eyes were half lidded, a challenge burning in their depths.

“I like it when you are the one to do it.” Hanzo grinned, and a hand fell to Jesse’s ass. It squeezed his right cheek and tugged it to the side.

“Sounds like we got a lot of exploring to do with each other.” Jesse leaned closer, eyes never leaving Hanzo’s. “I guess you could count this as our first real date.”

“Our first date was taking down the heroin dealer and the second was killing the child molester,” Hanzo pointed out, always a stickler for detail.

“You’re counting our hunts as dates?” Jesse laughed, pulling back far enough to spin Hanzo. The man went under his arm before taking the lead.

“We spend time together doing things we enjoy and talk half the night away.” Hanzo lead them in a quick one two step, ignoring the crowd around them. “I end up wanting to kiss you every time we sit and clean our weapons together after the fight.”

“Just not very romantic.” Jesse found himself ducking under Hanzo’s arm, not used to the movement, but it sent a little flutter to his heart. “See, I was thinking that was more of the… the friendship part, getting to know you, remembering how to fight. Not that I didn’t want t’kiss you every time I looked at ya’. You’re fucking fine with blood on your cheek and righteous anger in your eyes. Get me feeling electric like I’m gonna burst if I don’t touch you.” Jesse followed the circle Hanzo took them in, unable to look away from Hanzo’s face.

“It has been difficult to keep my hands to myself,” Hanzo admitted, his tongue peeking out to sweep over his bottom lip. “When you are dirty and covered in sweat and reek of smoke and burning metal.” The hand on Jesse’s waist slid behind his back, and he was eased into a dip. His heart fluttered again, staring up at the glittery ceiling. He had never been dipped before, never been held with such easy assurance that he wasn’t going to fall. It did something to him he had never felt before, insides squirming with joy.

“So what’s this, our third date?” he managed to ask as he was pulled up, stumbling a bit as all the blood rushed south. “You know what that means,” he teased, trying his best not to step on Hanzo’s feet as the music sped up with a new song.

“Ah, but you only count it as our first. That means in your American customs that we shall only kiss goodnight.”

“What? Now, I didn’t mean that.” Jesse tried to get Hanzo to stop and listen. “‘Sides, you’re staying in my house. Our house. The house,” he managed, knowing he was talking a little too fast. “How am i supposed t’kiss you goodnight and leave ya’ to go to my own room when you’re going to be right there? I could just push you into your room and fall into bed with you.”

“You are the one that wanted to court me properly,” Hanzo pointed out with that dastardly sharp mind of his, always remembering things Jesse said when his cock wasn’t hard and aching and head spinning with just how much he wanted to experience everything Hanzo.

“Using my own words against me,” Jesse huffed, taking the lead back from Hanzo. “What if I didn’t even kiss you goodnight? I could make this a real old-fashioned kinda’ courtship. Get you all spun up and ready to try and break me t’get what you wanted,” Jesse threatened, all too aware it was empty.

From the smirk on Hanzo’s face, he knew it too. “If I offered to go to my knees for you in the bathroom, you would already be dragging me off the dance floor.”

Jesse choked on nothing, coughing as the images flashed in front of his eyes. How perfect Hanzo would be on his knees, those big, dark eyes on fire, watching with rapt attention as Jesse came undone. He’d be pressed up against the stall wall, knees shaking and barely standing as Hanzo took him nice and deep.

“Or perhaps,” Hanzo’s hand on his ass squeezed again, dragging their hips together. Jesse returned sharply to the present, growing more desperate with every word that came out of Hanzo’s mouth. “It is better for us to try to get to know each other without the physical desire we feel getting in the way. There is much for us to learn about each other. Without the distraction of the physical we could—“

Jesse grabbed Hanzo's face in his hands, forcing him to stop speaking. He curled forward, forcing Hanzo to look up. His soft lips parted with a silent “Oh,” and Jesse’ couldn’t take a moment more. He brought their mouths together with a clash, snarling into it with a gush of pleasure and relief. Hanzo was rich and salty on this tongue, mouth opening eagerly. They locked together, a tangle of arms and greedy hands as they sank into the fire of the kiss. Hanzo’s tongue swept into his mouth, tasting him like a dying man. He growled as desire thickened in his veins, making it hard to think. All he wanted was Hanzo, all he needed, more than air, more than life itself, was to be with him finally. The longing of years crashed over him in a wave, sweeping all his doubts and fears aside.

Hanzo moaned his name, breaking away only long enough to draw a shaky breath before he attacked Jesse’s mouth, the same desperate, relieved sounds coming from him as the kiss turned tender. Jesse captured his partner’s lips in his own, the slant of their mouths bringing them closer. His hand fisted in Hanzo’s shirt, threatening to rip it off right there on the dance floor, needing to feel more of Hanzo, to have his smooth, warm skin pressed tightly to his own. He wanted to soak up everything that was Hanzo and melt into him until they were one creature. Souls twinning ever tighter.

“Home, now,” Hanzo growled, his teeth stinging on Jesse’s lip, and it brought him out of the thick haze that had settled over him.

“Let’s go.” Jesse grabbed the shorter man’s hand, dragging him off the dance floor in  a half run.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much Tevokkia for editing this chapter!

Jesse wasted no time shoving Hanzo up against the side of his truck, the music from the club chasing them into the sticky summer night. It throbbed in his blood as he rucked Hanzo’s shirt up, the desire to feel his flushed skin overwhelming. He stroked over the hard lines of his chest, callused fingertips spread to greedily take it in.

“J-Jesse, unlock the damn door,” Hanzo growled, fumbling at the door latch behind him. “You’re not fucking me in the parking lot.”

“Always did wanna fuck in a truck though,” Jesse chuckled, managing to pull back enough to find his keys, which dug into his hip as he dragged the keyring out. He got the door open and pushed Hanzo into it, the man’s back on the seat and one foot on the edge of the cab while the other leg wrapped around Jesse’s hip.

Jesse stepped deeper into the man’s personal space, half climbing into the cab. He drank in the site of his partner, laid out and languid for him. Bare chest heaving and cheeks dusted with rose, a dangerous smile dared Jesse to come closer.

“Fuck, baby, I could take you right here.”

“But neither of us want to get arrested for indecent exposure.” Hanzo smirked.

“Why ya always gotta be right?” Jesse ran a hand through his sweaty hair, feeling like all the air had been sucked out of his chest. A furtive glance around the parking lot revealed they were not alone, and a blond man flashed him a cheeky grin from his spot leaning against the club wall.

“Let’s kill him.” Hanzo was sitting up, glaring daggers at the voyeur.

“Can’t blame him for looking, not when you’re so fucking fine.” Jesse leaned in for a quick kiss, relishing the scratch of Hanzo’s beard against his chin.

“True.”

“So… let’s get going?” Jesse paused as Hanzo’s brows knitted together. A familiar wolfish tilt to his mouth had Jesse shivering, and he twisted to follow the assassin’s gaze. It was no longer on the blond who was still watching, but on a couple stumbling out of the alley.

Jesse squinted against the neon lights of the club sign, taking in details in a rush: the drunken stumble of the smaller man, the way he leaned away from the thick arm on his waist, the green, contorted look of his young features.

“Think it’s the same guy that’s been grabbing boys from the club?” Jesse crooned, the inferno in his belly changing directions. The rush of a hunt was all too easy to chase, especially when it meant seeing Hanzo in all his glory.

“He has the spider tattoo on his neck.” Hanzo’s words dripped into his ear. “And that suspicious covered bed truck would provide excellent cover.”

“Could just be helping a young man get home safely,” Jesse countered, playing the devil’s advocate as he leaned back into Hanzo’s arms.

“Perhaps.” Hanzo’s voice dipped an octave deeper.

They both watched from the safety of the cab as the pair made it to the truck. The younger man was pushing against his suitor’s arms, feet half dragged behind him. They both tensed as the attacker grabbed the man by the shirt front and hauled him off his feet.

“Too many witnesses here.”

“They do not notice an abduction, but a murder…”  Jesse sighed as Hanzo rested his chin on the top of his head. Thickly muscled arms squeezed him around the chest. “Send Eva with them. We will stalk him to his lair.”

Jesse turned his thoughts inward, as if stepping into the glorious desert sun. The warmth of the dragon enveloped him in calm, and when he reached out, he found Eva. She was at his side within the spiritual place, her regal head tilted.

_ Is it time to feed? _

Jesse grinned, loving his companion more every day. She had already saved his life several times. How had he ever fought without her? _ We got the scent of a real bad wolf. Need t’track him back to his den and see if we can free any of the little lambs he’s stolen. _

He ran his hands through her thick golden mane, scratching back to the base of her horns. They were glowing and hot to the touch. The dragon crooned softly, and Jesse found himself tangled up in the coil of her body.

_ Will my mate hunt with us? _

_ I dun know. You missing him? _

_ I desire to destroy our enemies with him. _

Jesse laughed at the sullenness in her voice.  _ We’re going to follow the truck and I just want ya to go with the young man inside it. Keep him safe. If something happens and we lose track of him, you can guide us to him. _

_ I will do as requested. I do not appreciate being stirred by lust only to be put to work before release _ .

Jesse gulped, blushing furiously even as he came back to himself. He was aware that the dragons felt things through their connection, but to hear they had been getting spun up as well… It unnerved him.

“They are leaving.” Hanzo pointed out.

“Eva’s going t’help, let’s give them a bit of a head start.”

“We do not want to alert him to our pursuit.”

\--

Eva’s trail was clear in Jesse’s mind: a streak of red light laced with gold like headlights in a long exposure camera shot broken by the scattering of raindrops on a window pane.

“She’s still with him. Kid’s sicker than a dog but nothin’s happened to him yet.” Jesse rubbed the space between his eyebrows, trying to get the tension to release. This far apart, communicating with his spirit dragon cost him almost as much as Deadeye had.

“Your range with her is growing.”

Jesse’s heart gave a flutter when Hanzo smiled at him with pride in his eyes. “All the practicin’ you’ve had me do. Still feels… real weird.”

“It will only get easier. I am still struggling with Miku. He has always been reserved, and without his mate’s wildness…” Hanzo leaned back in the seat. “When she departed, that night with the Elders, it felt as if I could not breathe. I did not realize how much I depended on them for more than just fighting until I lost one. My soul was torn asunder when it happened.”

Jesse kept his eyes on the road, driving further and further out of town, always keeping a mile or so between him and their target. The pavement gave way to beaten dirt roads, farmland and prairie on either side.

“Jesse.” Hanzo’s voice sent a shiver down the cowboy’s spine. “There is no one else I would rather be with.”

“Me neither partner,” Jesse admitted with a drum of his fingers on the steering wheel. “Hunting or otherwise. I know we were… something twisted before, but now...” He slowed down at an unmarked intersection, checking the way was clear before pulling through. “I’m lookin’ forward t’spending a lot more time with you.”

“You are marked by the dragon, there is no escaping me now.” Hanzo’s eyes blazed and his smile cut across his face.

“Guess I’m just gonna have t’put my dragon’s mark on you then.” Jesse licked his lips, already missing the taste of Hanzo. He had to touch him again, even if only for a moment. His hand landed firmly on the archer’s thigh, too high to be just friendly. He squeezed the hard line of muscle, drinking in the small gasp it stirred up.

“Is that a promise, Mr. McCree?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Again.”

“Fuck, Hanzo!” A surprised laugh burst out of his chest and he raised his hand to push Hanzo’s face away. “Too fucking soon.”

A smug, very pleased smile sat over Hanzo’s features and he leaned his back against the passenger door. “It has been almost two years.”

“But I only remembered two months ago,” Jesse pointed out. He managed to tear his attention away from Hanzo as Eva rose in the crevices of his brain.

_ He is unloading the man. He is blindfolded now. There are others in the basement. _

_ Thanks Eva, which house? _

An image crashed into his mind, a pathway revealed down a small side road and rushing past the dirt twists and turns to suddenly stop at a gated driveway. The rusted cattle gate was barred with a large padlock and chain.

“Shit.” Jesse blinked the directions away, tears threatening to spill. Dizziness and a knot in his stomach had him curling forward, the truck rolling to a stop in the middle of the road.

“Jesse? What is wrong?” Hanzo leaned into his space, the thick scent of sweat and musk crowding into his nose. A wave of nausea had him gritting his teeth to keep it down. The memory of the path remained clear in his mind, burned into his skull.

“Just… seeing through the dragon’s eyes,” Jesse managed after a long moment. The dizziness starting to fade as he sat up straight. “Never had that happen before.”

“She showed you the way?”

“Yeah, I know where the house is now.”

“Do you feel well enough to drive?”

“Yeah, it’s passing.” He breathed out slowly through his nose before easing them back into drive. It wasn’t far, and they stopped about a quarter of a mile away from the house. Corn fields rose on either side of them, just a few inches shorter than Jesse.

The stalks made a strange whispering as the breeze passed through the field.

A light gave away the house’s position. It had once been a proper farmhouse with a broad front porch and gabled eaves, but the cruel teeth of time had done their work. The front porch swing creaked on rusted chains, and a weathervane gave an unearthly squeal of metal. A dark aura radiated from it, strong even this far away.

"This is it." Jesse's voice dipped lower, adrenaline beginning to kick in.

"It is time." Hanzo was betrayed by the tightness around his eyes, undercutting the clinical tone of his words.

"I'll take the front." Jesse curled forward, reaching under the steering wheel. It took him a few seconds to find the latch to a hidden compartment. It popped softly, and Jesse eased Peacekeeper and a bandolier of bullets free.  He ran his fingers down the thick barrel, capturing Hanzo's gaze in his., a reckless energy ready to spring in his chest. Their eyes locked, heat lightning practically crackling. "And it won't be the only thing I’m taking tonight."

"You make bold claims for someone that I have had to rescue twice in the last two weeks." Hanzo chuckled the words and some of the tension eased from his face. “Regardless, I will scout. Miku and Eva will be our coms.”

"I ever tell ya how handsome you are when you’re about to hunt?” Jesse leaned into Hanzo, stealing a soft kiss. Golden heat welled up inside him, as if he was glowing from the inside, and he pulled away.

"Holler if ya need a hero." Jesse flashed a wink and slid out of the cab.

Moonlight streamed through bands of rising fog, dancing in the tattered leaves of the field, and a ribbon of unease tightened around his stomach.  Jesse swallowed, a sudden unnerving chill running down his spine.

"If you find yourself in trouble. Call to me."

The warmth of Hanzo's hand on his shoulder helped combat the sensation, a wave of calm rolling gently down his body and rooting him to the earth. "Know I can always count on you, Hanners."

"I will always protect you."

"Same here, partner."

\--

The playfulness of the hunt was left behind in the truck. Jesse’s shoulders were set and his mind focused as he read the house through Eva’s eyes, studying the front door as he listened to her murmur in his ear. 

The killer was in the basement with the young man they’d seen at the club, chaining the newest lamb to the wall. There were two others with him, alive but only barely, and their terror radiated through the connection Jesse shared with the dragon.There was another warm body upstairs. Eva was not sure if it was an accomplice or another victim.

The dragon growled furiously, snapping her jaws in the spirit world, and they needed to act fast. There was movement in the top story.

Jesse crouched before approaching the window by the front door. It was thick, double-paned glass, covered in a thick layer of dust. The bubbled, wavering quality of the glass hinted that it was ancient, just like the house and what had once been a thriving farm. Whoever lived here wasn’t responsible for the corn fields stretching out to the east.

Eva had already informed Hanzo about the situation, and Jesse mulled the options over. They could push hard and fast, break in and rush the basement stairs. They might be able to intimidate the attacker into surrender or startle him long enough to get off a shot first.

_ Can you open the lock on the door? _ He asked Eva, not having to go into that deep place within himself.

Eva took a long time to answer and her voice was thin.  _ Hanzo requires you in the back. _

_ Something wrong? _

_ He has a plan. _

Jesse grinned as some of the burden lessened from his shoulders. Hanzo was the tactician and the one with decades of experience as an assassin. Jesse was all for a smash-and-grab or a rowdy fight, but he was filled with pride to follow his boyfriend into the fray.

_ Inbound, _ he passed to Eva as he crept off the front porch and hopped into an overgrown flowerbed. The parched soil puffed around his boots, muffling his sounds as he edged to the back. The house was a rectangle, making it easy to get around.

Hanzo was nowhere to be seen.

Jesse squinted into the darkness, something flickering in his gut. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he looked through the tree line. Hanzo preferred higher ground, he did remember that.

“We need to upgrade your prosthetic eye, if you cannot even find me this close.”

Every muscle tensed to hold in a yelp of surprise. Hanzo was just a few feet away from him, blending into the space between the house wall and a bush.

“Fucking shit,” Jesse breathed between clenched teeth. “Forgot you were a fucking ninja for a moment.”

“It would serve you well to keep it at the front of your mind,” Hanzo flashed a toothy smile. It fell into a hard line quickly enough. “Wait here and do not get into trouble.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, mimicking Hanzo’s tone under his breath. It died on his lips as Hanzo looped his bow across his chest and climbed the house with a terrifying ease. He slithered to a second story window without using any visible hand or foot holds.

It was effortless and beautiful in a way that sucked all the air out of his chest.

The window opened with only a soft squeak and Hanzo disappeared.

Together, they made easy work of the serial killer.

The dragons took care of the body.

\--

The scent of coffee filled Jesse’s little kitchen in the late hours of the night, dawn still a ways off. “Sugar?” Jesse covered a yawn with his forearm as he got two mugs down from the cupboard. A pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips, skin still hot from a shower. They had both needed to clean up and dispose of evidence, and a satisfied exhaustion clung to them.

“I would prefer you.” Hanzo’s voice was low and sluggish.

Jesse glanced over his shoulder, chuckling at the sight of Hanzo half asleep. His head rested on his arms on the kitchen island, wet hair dripping in his face. “Look like all you’re up for is bed.” Jesse fought back another yawn, sliding the decaf coffee over.

After a moment, he went back to the cabinet and pulled out a container of Oreos. “Probably need t’eat somethin’.” He settled onto the stool next to Hanzo and put a stack of cookies by his cup.

“I’m cold.” Hanzo huffed. The dark marks under his eyes begged to be kissed away as he looked up.

“Drink your coffee.”

“You are a fool.” A dramatic sigh escaped the archer before he dragged himself into a more vertical position. He did take the warm mug and help himself to the sweets.

“I know what you’re playing at.” Jesse leaned his shoulder into Hanzo’s. “You smell good.”

“How elegant.”

Jesse nuzzled into the cold, wet crook of his boyfriend’s neck, kissing the soft flesh. “I’ll still warm you up.”

“Hmm, you need to trim your beard.” Hanzo tilted his head to the side and Jesse took the access greedily. Coffee and cookie crumbs around his mouth added a sweetness as he nibbled up to Hanzo’s earlobe. A soft catch of Hanzo’s breath sent desire hot and searing through his core and Jesse flicked his tongue lazily around the sweet little bit of flesh.

Hanzo’s eyes were half closed, sipping his coffee even as his cheeks stained red. “Your mouth is sticky.”

“You still want it on you.” Jesse flicked his tongue up the shell of his ear before giving it a little nip.

“True.” Hanzo gave a soft sound of amusement before sliding another Oreo into his mouth. They both ate and drank in a moment of silence, just resting with their shoulders pressed firmly together. Bare flesh to flesh, the heat built between them and chased away the chill of the air conditioning.

“I’m gonna head to bed.” Jesse rested his head on Hanzo’s shoulder just briefly. “Pleasure working with ya, as always.”

“We work very well together.” Hanzo rose to his feet, the long hair clinging to his face still damp and lovely as endless pools of ink. “Jesse.”

“Yeah?” the man slowly got to his feet, a sleepy smile overtaking his features.

“I desire to lay with you tonight.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Tevokkia for editing this mess! Couldn't do it without the help of such a fabulous editor!

Jesse raised an eyebrow, taking in the sleepy, disheveled man standing before him, the cant of his shoulders suggesting a deep exhaustion. A new bruise from their mission already coloring his chest and left shoulder, the ninja looked half dead on his feet.

“You mean you want t’sleep beside me,” Jesse clarified, finding the energy to smirk.

“Unless you are volunteering to do all the work, yes.” Hanzo shuffled to him and rested his forehead against the crook of Jesse’s neck. 

“Temptin’, Darlin’.” Jesse was tired as well, even if his dick was making a valiant attempt to rise. “C’mon, let’s get to bed.” It was easy enough to guide the assassin down the hall and into the master bedroom. Jesse was reminded of old times, far before the violent climax of their parting. “You always did like any excuse t’get in bed with me.”

“And you never capitalized on my obvious desire to bed you.” Hanzo’s chuckle sent warmth through his chest.

“Well… I didn’t know and you seemed t’hate me as much as you liked me,” Jesse pointed out. He pushed back the light covers and let Hanzo drip out of his arms into the spot. “Bet you were tickled pink when you got to have me as your pretend lover.”

“I do not know what you speak of.” Hanzo curled up in the big bed, quickly pulling the blanket up to his chin. “I cherish the memories of our time together.”

“Mhmm.” Jesse rolled his eyes as he headed to the other side of the mattress. “Don’t think I forgot about you bossin’ me around all the time. Teasin’ me something fierce.”

The sheets were cool against Jesse’s skin and he shivered. When they had returned from the hunt, adrenaline had overheated their blood and even the cold shower hadn’t been enough. It had long since worn off and he was left half frozen. 

“You are too easy to tease,” Hanzo mumbled, voice sinking an octave lower. “Have you remembered more of our time together?”

Hanzo was warm under Jesse’s arm and he slowly pulled him closer. “Yeah, bits and pieces. It’s hard... “ The gunslinger nuzzled along Hanzo’s neck, breathing in the musky smell of his body wash. “Reconciling the two versions of you in my head.”

“I would imagine so… we have both changed greatly in our time apart.”

“Sure have, sweetheart,” Jesse chuckled, eyes closed as he breathed in time with Hanzo. “And I’ve been thinkin’ of where we go from here.”

“My intentions are clear.”

“Crystal.” Jesse shook his head, hand lazily spread along Hanzo’s ribs. “I was meanin’... we can’t keep playin’ vigilantes. Sure, the men we rescued tonight said they wouldn’t tell nobody ‘bout the dragons but they saw our faces at the end. Eventually someone’s gonna talk and the pieces will start to fall into place.”

“It has been on my mind as well,” Hanzo sighed. 

“What are we gonna do?”

“If you wish, we can retire here and… live out our days with our dogs and dragons.” 

Jesse rumbled, lazily kissing the back of Hanzo’s neck. The damp strands tried to stick to his beard. It was hard to put into words just what he’d been imagining, not sure if it was even something Hanzo would be interested in. It wasn’t the life the man had been used to. Then again, he’d lived on the road for a year.

“I was thinking-”

“A dangerous pursuit.”

“You already used that one,” Jesse countered without missing a beat. He grinned against Hanzo’s flushed skin, resisting the urge to graze his teeth along it. “But, really, what would you think about… and don’t be offended, babe?”

“I reserve the right.” Hanzo’s voice tilted with amusement even as the man rolled over. “Please tell me your thoughts.”

Jesse leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. The scent of coffee and cookies clung between them. “Maybe, I was thinking, I ain’t ever seen you more yourself than on the hunt. When you’re fighting, when we’re working together as a team, I feel like everything is just perfect. Seeing you in action, strong and commanding and fightin’ for someone who needs savin’, well… it just gets my heart all fluttery and shit.”

Hanzo’s warm gaze had him blushing by the end, half stumbling to get the words out. It broke as the man snorted and lightly shoved his chest. “You would say something to charm me and end it with crudeness.”

Jesse just grinned and pulled Hanzo tight against him. Their bare chests moved in time together. “So, I guess what I’m beatin’ around the bush about is: what do you think about sellin’ the farm and buyin’ a classic muscle car or somethin’ and travelin’ the states huntin’ down the baddest of the bad together?”

“Bounty hunters?” Hanzo’s voice gave nothing away. His face was a carefully serene mask that hid a churning energy. 

“Somethin’ like that.” Jesse shifted back slightly, heart hammering in his chest. “Was just a thought. I ain’t interested in a life that don’t include you and you aren’t made for this type of life, even if I can be happy as a simple rancher. And I ain’t saying you have t’marry me or nothing but we’re just datin’ and--”

“You are mine,” Hanzo growled the words with a guttural possessiveness that sent thrills down Jesse’s spine. His voice quickly tempered, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Forgive my rudeness...You are my mate. Wherever you are, I will be also.” Hanzo’s hand was warm on Jesse’s cheek. “If you wish to be homeless and live out of suitcases and hotel rooms while we hunt, I will gladly go. If you wish to remain, I will stay and muck out chicken coops and horse stalls and ride a tractor.” 

“I ain’t tryin’ to get rid of you, Darlin’,” Jesse murmured, chest filled with a deep ache. “Though you in some overalls driving a tractor is a mighty funny thought.”

“You cannot get rid of me.” Jesse grunted as Hanzo suddenly shoved him down onto his back. “Even with such horrendous threats of fashion.”

“Well shucks, Sugar,” Jesse chuckled, a wave of relief crashing over him to see Hanzo smiling again. Hanzo’s thighs were warm under his palms, the sweatpants not hiding the thick bands of muscle. He idly ran his hands up and down, loving the sight of his companion above him. “We ain’t gotta decide anythin’ tonight. Just throwing out an idea there.”

“I do not care where we go as long as we are together.”

“Sounds like you’re sayin’ you’re in love with me, Hanners.”

The man tilted his head to the side, hair falling over one shoulder. “Do you have doubts about my feelings for you?” 

A lazy grind of the archer’s hips sent shocks down Jesse’s body to his toes. “Pretty frisky for someone that was yawning a few minutes ago,” he managed weakly, feeling suddenly dizzy.

“I am merely trying to get through your thick skull, as you seem determined to misunderstand me.” 

Jesse bit back a whimper as Hanzo’s hand settled on his sternum, pressing him into the sheets, his body stirring despite the weariness he felt. A firm stroke along his belly had his thighs twitching. Aching to return the smooth caress, he fought to keep still. 

“You know, you could just say how you really feel about me, instead of --” Hanzo gyrated on his half hard cock, every finely cut muscle in his stomach and chest rippling, and Jesse couldn’t breathe. 

“I chose you, to be bonded to me for life.” Hanzo reached behind himself and Jesse gasped at the soft brush of fingertips along his inner thigh. “I overthrew my clan for the chance to be with you. Do you require such easily given and cast aside words?”

Jesse swallowed hard, trying to find his voice when Hanzo was rubbing little circles on his thigh. “I love a grand gesture much as the next man.” He shuddered as Hanzo’s hand slid higher. “But… Hanzo, I’m a man that needs t’hear it. I wanna shower you in praises and devotion and make you forget your own name. But I gotta hear the words. You gotta tell me.”

The weight of Hanzo’s gaze held him still and he forgot how to breath.  “Jesse McCree-”

“Jamie.” Jesse sat up suddenly, dumping Hanzo into his lap. “M’real name is Jamie.”

Tenderness flooded Hanzo’s face, the softest smile playing on his lips. “Jamie then, if you need to hear it, then I will overcome my hesitance.” Hanzo took a deep breath and Jesse’s face was captured in his strong hands. Their eyes locked, the connection a bright cord between them. “Jamie, I have longed for you from the moment you ruined my mission in that bar and I know now that I love you.”

Light shimmered inside Jesse, a blinding burst of pure joy to hear the words he had long guessed at. “I thought I loved you before but I can see it was just a dime-store knockoff t’how I feel about you now.” He gently wrapped his arms around Hanzo, needing him to be closer. “I’m glad you chose me.”

“You foolish cowboy.” Hanzo laughed, the sound rasping with emotion, and Jesse was dragged forward. 

He landed with a bounce over the dragon, blinking back moisture. “Silly ninja.” He closed the distance between them before something else could get in the way. Hanzo’s mouth was soft against his, parting with a sigh of relief.

“It was not as difficult as I feared.”

Jesse kissed his way to Hanzo’s ear and nuzzled the lobe before sinking his teeth lightly around it. “Good to hear it,” Jesse confirmed before flicking his tongue over the captured flesh. “You’re so handsome, baby.” He nosed along the line of Hanzo’s jaw to his throat, the strong column melding perfectly into his trap and shoulder. “So brave, tellin’ me just what I need t’hear. So powerful and strong on the battlefield.”

A low groan sent shivers down Jesse’s core. Hanzo’s face was ruddy and his eyes were squeezed closed. “Say… say more.”

“You’re the best shot I ever saw.” Jesse followed the praise with a fierce kiss on the archer’s neck, swirling his tongue over the bite of teeth to soothe the sting. “You're the scariest fucker I ever came across.”

Every bit of murmured affirmation had Hanzo twitching beneath him. Fingernails dug into Jesse’s back as Hanzo lifted himself off the bed to bring their bodies together. Jesse hissed in pleasure, steadying his weight on both hands. His head spinning, all thoughts other than Hanzo cast aside. 

“Didn’t know you had a praise kink,” Jesse mumbled against Hanzo’s flushed throat. “Or you just missing everyone fawning over the famous actor?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” Jesse deadpanned, shutting his mouth with a click.

“Wait, not like that.” 

“Then tell me what t’say with my pretty mouth,” Jesse teased with a lavish wink and the tip of an invisible hat.

“You will continue to tell me just what you think of me or put it to better use entirely.”

Jesse groaned as the man used his legs to hold them pressed together at the hip. “I reckon I can come up with a better idea for it.” Jesse was eager to taste the smile on his partner’s lips, melding their mouths together with a needy sigh. The wet press of Hanzo’s tongue had him growling for more. 

The world spun as Hanzo suddenly braced and threw him to the sheets. “You have yet to accept my mark upon you,” Hanzo murmured low and rough, his words carrying a bite.

“Baby, I gotta pretty big dragon tattoo t’prove I’m yours.” Jesse smirked, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of being pinned to the sheets. It was a nice change from being crushed to the gym mats, especially when Hanzo was drunk and wild on emotion, just as hungry and needy as he was.

“That is the mark of the clan.” Hanzo’s eyes were molten pools above him, a wolfish smile overtaking his mouth, and Jesse rumbled in desire. A slow sweep of Hanzo’s eyes tangled him in desperate cords, fine sweat beading on his chest. The dark hairs sticking to his freshly showered skin glimmered in the faint blue light emanating from the man’s tattoo.

“So what’s your mark like?” Jesse shifted to rest his weight on his elbows. The smell of coffee and cookies was strong as their breath mingled. “Don’t tell me I’mma get a tattoo on my dick or something?”

“You fool.” Hanzo cuffed him lightly and they tumbled to lay side by side. “Though I would find it most amusing.”

“Only if I get to ‘awaken’ your dragon.” Jesse waggled his brows before rolling out of the way of another punch.

“You will get none of my dragon if you continue.” Hanzo’s laugh made his heart soar.

Jesse jumped out of the bed and grabbed a pillow off the floor just encase Hanzo felt like coming after him.

“You think a pillow will protect you?” Hanzo was standing on the bed, hands braced on his hips. The sweatpants had slid lower, the tantalizing V cut into his body daring his gaze to linger. 

“Aren’t you just a tall drink of water to a man dying of thirst.” A flush of hunger roared through Jesse; the longer he stared the louder it became. He dared step closer, torn between a need for sensual connection and the thrill of teasing Hanzo. 

“You are easily distracted by a bit of flesh.”

Jesse was nearly struck down by the sheer force of his attraction as Hanzo flexed, blood gushing to his groin.

“N-Nah,” his voice was rough and scratchy. He worked moisture into his mouth, unable to look away as Hanzo’s pecs tensed. “You can tease me all ya want but I’m not lettin’ you mark me till you tell me what it is.”

“Come closer and I will.”

Jesse squinted at the archer, suspicious but not truly worried. He shuffled back to the bed, looking up at Hanzo’s strong jaw. “You can’t keep all the mystery to yourself. I ain’t opposed t’being marked but you gotta tell me stuff.”

“It is nothing as magical as the dragons.”

Jesse leaned into the warm touch of Hanzo’s hand on his head, fit to die of contentment. The strong yet gentle fingers now exploring the shape of his skull had him melting. “Mm, is it a wedding ring?”

“It can be if you desire.” Hanzo’s voice didn’t waver, as strong and certain as always. “Though neither of us technically exist.”

“Very true.” Jesse closed his eyes to soak up the caress. He didn’t need a wedding and he didn’t care about leaving a record. They would always exist on the fringe. “You’re gentler than I remember you being.”

“I have learned to treat the things that matter to me with tenderness lest I break them.” A soft caress along his cheekbone had Jesse practically purring. “I almost broke you.” The brush of a fingertip down his nose had Jesse open his eyes. Warmth bubbled up at the adoration welling in Hanzo’s eyes and the playful curl of his mouth. “And I broke your family.”

“Mama and Mabel musta’ had an earful for you,” Jesse chuckled, and finally managed to move. Hanzo’s waist was solid and strong in his arms as he drew them together. Jesse propped his chin on Hanzo’s sternum. “I gotta see ’em soon.”

“There will be no documents to sign or contracts to bind us together,” Hanzo murmured, the words pouring over Jesse like golden sunlight. “But I would pledge myself to you completely and become part of your family. And you become part of mine.”

“I’d like that, Hanners.” He tilted his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the smooth plane of Hanzo’s chest. “But it don’t sound like what you were threatening before.”

“I have realized my reaction was perhaps extreme.” Hanzo’s laugh soothed any strain the moment might have put on him. “I simply wished to decorate your body with a thousand kisses and leave a flourish of soft purple bruises in my wake.”

Jesse stretched up on tiptoe to kiss the underside of Hanzo’s jaw. “Well, shucks, only if I can do the same for you pardner.”

“I admit to a primal desire to sink my teeth into you.” The grip on Jesse’s hair tightened and he found his head pulled to the side. 

“Thought you were a dragon, not a vampire.” He teased, heart picking up pace again and the pulse throbbing in more than one place.

Hanzo didn’t answer with words, lowering his mouth. Jesse shivered at the hot gust of Hanzo’s breath on his neck, goosebumps breaking out. The brush of his lips had him offering his throat completely, fingers digging into the archer’s back for support. The man’s towering presence had his knees weak as teeth sank lightly into his neck, just holding him in surrender as he pressed up for more.

“C’mon baby, give me a mark for days.”

“Anything for you, my dearest.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All errors are my own, thanks Tev for looking it over! Hope you enjoy <3 And we earn our Explicit rating!

A soft, broken sound of pleasure escaped from Jesse’s mouth as Hanzo’s teeth sank into him, deep enough to bruise the tanned flesh where his neck and shoulder became one. Fire bloomed in the pit of his stomach, a living thing demanding his surrender.

“Just like that.” Jesse’s voice shuddered and his knees were weak, only his arms around Hanzo’s waist keeping him fully standing. A broad lap of his companion’s tongue soothed the sharp pain that would soon meld into a bruise: a mark for the world to see that he belonged to the dragon and was one of them. “Ain’t had one of these since I was a teenager. You cradle robber.”

Hanzo pulled away with a laugh, the sound bubbling up into golden pools of summer. “You are a fool.” An affectionate kiss on his forehead had Jesse reeling. 

“A fool for you, darlin’.” Jesse pushed against the solid weight of the archer, toppling them both into the bed in a fit of mirth. 

“Hmm, regardless, we are both fools.” Hanzo’s voice was like a balm, warm and soothing as they tangled together. Face to face, blankets half dragged over them in the massive bed in a house that love built, Hanzo ran his fingers through Jesse’s hair.

“Love it when you touch me like that, all gentle and sweet,” Jesse crooned, eyes fluttering shut. 

“I will touch you however you wish.”

“Then please, more.”

The press of Hanzo’s mouth against his forehead was like a drug, blanketing his worries and taming the fire inside. “Who is looking tired now, gunslinger?” Hanzo’s smile soothed the lines etched in Jesse’s forehead.

He tried to rally, pushing against the wave of exhausted relief that crashed into him, Hanzo’s fingers playing through his hair, soothing away the tension in his scalp and working down his neck. He soaked up the warmth, drowning in the scent and feel of his companion.

“Promise you’ll be here when I wake up,” he mumbled, body feeling lethargic and loose in Hanzo’s strong arms.

“I will not be leaving.” Hanzo’s fingers trailed fire down Jesse’s chest, petting at the thick hair. “You no longer have to worry.”

“Mm, a force of habit, sweetpea.” Jesse sank deeper into the mattress as he relaxed, his arm slung over Hanzo’s trim waist to pull him closer till there was no air between them. “How do you feel ‘bout morning sex?”

Hanzo gave him a glare that would have scorched a lesser man. 

Jesse just wiggled his eyebrows.

“Make me breakfast in bed and I will consider it.”

“Deal.” 

Jesse sealed it with a kiss.

 

\--

 

“I was in Hanamura, standing on top of the small garden house.” Hanzo waved a bit of toast animatedly as he regaled Jesse with his exploits in the year and a half they had spent apart. Jesse could only drink in the warm cadence of his voice and the light dancing in his eyes, a new light that only grew brighter they longer they spent together.

“Then what?” Jesse chuckled, taking the coffee carafe to refill the man’s cup. Bonnie and Clyde were curled up at the foot of the bed, munching on bits of bacon. Steam rose from his own mug, and a tiny bit of whipped cream was stuck in his whiskers, just out of his eyesight.

“I found the Elder Tanaka, meeting with his henchmen.” A sneer of derision lit up Hanzo’s face, undercut by the crumbs clinging to his mouth. What used to be the stack of waffles between them had been demolished, and the plates were mostly empty. “And sent the full wrath of the dragon after them. He cut through the ranks with a roar that sounded the bell, furious and thundering. The castle shook with it and all fled before us. Genji unleashed Soba and routed the guards.”

Jesse rested his weight on his elbow, lounging comfortably with his lover, all attention focused on Hanzo as he soaked up the warmth radiating from him in this happy moment. It had been hard won, and the longer Jesse listened the harder it was to keep from tearing up.

Hanzo had reunited with his brother, fought against the entire clan and overthrew it. Together they had righted the wrongs carried out against them and in their name. The castle was empty now and would forever be, relegated to history. In time, it would lose its bloodstains and become just another relic, another tourist trap among the sprawling jewel of Hanamura.

“Do you think you’ll miss it?” Jesse murmured as he cleared the tray of cleaned plates away.

Hanzo trailed after him into the kitchen, wearing an oversized flannel against the chill of the fall morning. “I will miss parts. I still remember playing in the sand garden by the bell with Genji and my mother when we were young. Sneaking out as a teenager and stealing wallets along with kisses.”

“Stealing kisses? I thought that was more of Genji’s scene.” Jesse grinned over his shoulder before dumping the tray in the sink. 

“I have taken them from handsome men.” Hanzo chuckled, and Jesse was suddenly pinned against the counter. Hanzo’s hands on his hips kept him in place as his mouth began to wander along his neck, bright spots of flame licking up his spine as the shorter man settled himself tight to Jesse’s back.

“Well, darlin’, ain’t that a nice surprise.”

“I have considered your offer.”

“And?” Jesse moaned as Hanzo sank his growing hardness against his ass.

“I want to feel you inside me.” 

“That right?” A wave of pleasure curled the gunslinger forward, red breaking over his face and neck. “Then what are we waiting for?”

“I see no reason to hurry.” Hanzo’s voice tickled his ear and he jerked a little. A ragged gasp behind him matched the twitch of Hanzo’s cock on his ass. “There is plenty of time for us to explore each other. I do not remember you being this ... open, to things.”

A shallow thrust had Jesse whimpering, clutching a hand to his mouth. He struggled to focus on speaking, dick pressed into the cabinets growing harder by the second. “Can’t say I ever trusted you like this before.”

Hanzo paused, just for a moment, and Jesse feared he’d fucked up. His worries were soothed by a lingering kiss on the back of his shoulder and gentle hands wrapping around his waist.

“I am honored.” The words were followed by another soft press of lips to the curve of his back. 

Jesse realized Hanzo was kissing the edge of the swirling dragon tattoo and laughed. “You would wanna fuck me where you can see your mark.” He rolled his eyes and twisted to face his companion.

“It is a work of art, just like you.”

“Hmm, could say the same, pardner.”

Jesse draped his arms over Hanzo’s powerful shoulders, resting his weight comfortably against the counter. The height difference not so great without his cowboy boots, he indulged in kissing the split of Hanzo’s right eyebrow. 

Gently, unhurried, he explored the strong cut of the man’s brow and down his regal nose. It earned him a huff and hands on his chest, slowly stroking through his chest hair as they traded heated glances.

“You’re so goddamn handsome,” Jesse crooned, finally allowing himself to taste Hanzo’s mouth. The bristle of his beard caught the other man’s and they laughed. Jesse tilted his head more, aligning himself as they found a new closeness.

Heat swelled in his belly as Jesse dared to lick against Hanzo’s smirk. Dipping between with an easy sigh, Hanzo rose to meet him. A tender exploration of mouths and tongues was followed by Jesse’s hands mirroring every sculpted edge of the assassin’s chest.

A snort and laugh broke their kiss, Hanzo quickly covering his face.

A wicked smile overtook Jesse. “Ticklish?” He wiggled his fingers under the curve of Hanzo’s pec. 

“I will kill you.” Hanzo swatted it away, cheeks flushed and rosy in the morning light.

“I’ll kill you first,” Jesse chuckled as he leaned down to kiss at Hanzo’s throat. “Not ticklish here are you?”

A breathy moan was the only response. Jesse parted his lips, eagerly teasing the man’s flesh. Summer thunderstorms with the promise of tornados mixed with juniper, the feeling overwhelmed him. 

He pushed away from the counter and scooped the man into his arms. He spun slowly in the kitchen, wood floor warm beneath his bare feet and the most gorgeous man alive showering him with kisses.

The walk to the bedroom took far too long and yet just right, taking Hanzo’s mouth again and again until they were both out of breath. Lips shiny and swollen as Jesse managed to somehow get the door open.

Bonnie and Clyde bolted out, nearly knocking his legs out from under him. He swore, staggering but they had been through worst. Hanzo rode him with grace as Jesse somehow got inside and the door closed. The last thing they needed was to get distracted.

“What will we do with them?” Hanzo shook his head before sitting up in the mess of blankets.

“C’mon, can’t talk that way about our children.” Jesse leaned over to press his mouth to Hanzo’s chest, ignoring the grunt of disapproval. It was all for show anyway. Hanzo loved the two dogs almost as much as the dragons. 

“I can think of more enjoyable things to use your pretty mouth for.” Hanzo’s smirk had Jesse melting from the inside out.

“Oh darlin’, you know you’re the one as beautiful as sin.”

Jesse dripped from the bed to his knees. The rug cushioned the hard floor but he would have knelt on gravel. Anything to see Hanzo’s face flushed and his eyes burned with desire. 

Jesse slowly leaned in, kissing the clothed expanse of Hanzo’s thigh. Starting at the knee and working upwards, he drank in every murmured word of praise falling on him like rain.

“So strong,” Hanzo’s breath hitched and his head fell. Dark inky strands fell around his face in a halo. The sun streaming in the window behind them lit it up like a dragonfly’s wing. “So smart, clever. Brave, you foolish stupid wonderful man.”

Jesse just hummed in response, breathing in everything Hanzo. The heat radiated against his face from the man’s crotch. The obvious tent so inviting, mouth watering as he leaned in to lightly brush his face over the searing skin. Thin material doing little to mask the shape and hardness of his love.

Committing it to memory, Jesse closed his eyes and rested his face in the crook of Hanzo’s thigh. Overwhelmed by a rush of heat in his chest, love and hope too tight in the confines of his ribs. Like a burst of new growth stretching towards the light, ache and exhilaration melded together.

Tender fingers caressed into his hair, wandering the rough shape of his skull and down to his jaw. He leaned into it, drawn by an invisible bond till he could press a kiss to Hanzo’s rough and calloused palm.

The same hands that could kill at a whim or ease the tightest muscle mapped his face as if he was a priceless statue. Delicately dipping into the tired circles under his eyes, soothing the lines of worry away, Hanzo calmed him.

He pressed kisses into the heel of his palm, onto the course fingertips and eagerly down his wrist. Worshiping the strong muscles of his forearm and up the tattoo until he was forced to choose between rising from his knees or giving up the focus of his adoration.

“Please.” Hanzo’s voice was low, a rumble of thunder at the edge of the horizon that brought much-needed rain. 

“Anything for you.”

Jesse whispered the words against his lover’s stomach. Grinning at the spasm of muscles as he kissed his way down. Trying to avoid the ticklish areas he’d learned earlier, he mouthed at the hem of Hanzo’s sweatpants. 

Dipping his fingertips beneath the band, he dared to raise his eyes to the sun. He was met with blazing eyes and a nod of encouragement. It was all the permission he needed.

Jesse gently pulled them down. Waiting for Hanzo to lift his ass from the bed before tugging them to his thighs. The heavenly sight of Hanzo’s cock pushing up his dark boxer briefs seared all the air from his lungs.

“Beautiful,” he crooned, licking his lips. The sweats quickly left on the floor and he leaned in to nose along the thick length. He mouthed the heat, groaning low as tasted the bitterness of pre. Exhaluting in the knowledge he was the cause, Jesse lapped up to the tip. 

Hanzo’s hands knotted in his hair, just enough to make him shudder. Pleasure spiking down his spine to thicken his own need. Dizzy as the air heated between them, he ground his face into the thick curves of his partner’s groin.

Hanzo stiffened and bucked, a murmured apology quickly cut off as Jesse thrust his face deeper against his body. The thick weight of his cock burned on his cheek as he dragged his nose along the shaft. Peppering kisses on the way, he could barely pull himself away long enough to get the boxers briefs off. 

For once in his life, he was struck speechless. Gulping down a heady groan at the sight, Jesse fought to keep from rushing in. Flushed and glistening with sweat and pre, Hanzo’s cock sprang to rest against his stomach. The man smirking as he lounged in the feverish attention.

Jesse struggled with the desire to go slow and the raw aching need in his groin to taste his companion. A primal rumble broke his lips as he considered, fingers rubbing slow circles into Hanzo’s thighs.

“Feeling shy, Jesse?”

“Oh that ain’t the problem, sweetheart,” Jesse licked his lips, mouth watering as he leaned in. Locking eyes with the man above him, he slightly inclined his mouth. Lips hovering just out of reach. “May I?” 

“Please.”

Jesse surged forward, mouth open and willing as he took the tip in. Lavishing with his tongue, he pulled the skin back to lick up the sensitive glands and over the weeping slit. The bitter saltiness a welcome gift and he eagerly lapped every drop up. He gently squeezed the length he couldn’t fit into his mouth, sliding in the drool up and down as he bobbed.

Each liquid, wet moan of pleasure above him urged him to take more. Hanzo’s voice bobbing between octaves in a lurid slow crescendo. Jesse groaned in time, hand falling to his own hardness. He was aching already and the friction of just his prosthetic hand was almost enough to make him gasp. 

“Jesse,” the sound of his name whispered like a prayer sent lightning through his body.  A tug on his hair forced him to pull back, swirling his tongue over the captured head in his mouth. 

A fine sheen of sweat glimmered on Hanzo’s face in the sun, brows drawn down sharply over his nose in concentration. “I do not want this to end.”

Jesse gave one last lick of his treat before pulling back. “I don’t want it to be over either, darlin’,” He murmured, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “I wanna make you so happy, wanna make you feel like you’re flying.” He tried to kiss Hanzo’s chest but his head was tugged higher.

Jesse’s mouth was invaded by Hanzo’s eager tongue, swirling to taste the mix of them. Jesse moaned into it, sliding his arms around Hanzo’s waist and pushing him back on the bed.

“Be gentle. It has been a long time.” Hanzo panted, thrown back on the bed. Hair strewn around him and powerful body arching as he spread his legs. Feet braced on the bed, he crooked a finger and Jesse jumped like livewire to crawl over him.

“I’ll be careful.” He didn’t remember to breathe as he sank to his elbows between Hanzo’s powerful thighs. “I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” he whispered the confession to Hanzo’s inner thigh. Following up the admission with a long slow kiss, working a florid red to the surface of his skin. 

“As have I,” Hanzo’s deadpan delivery made Jesse guffaw. 

“Then I'll be making all your dreams come true today, sweetheart,” Jesse winked before lowering to kiss his way to Hanzo’s heavy sac, nosing the underside lovingly. A flick of his tongue and sweep of his thumb had Hanzo rolling his hips.

He didn’t tease too long, licking each cheek and the nibbling the tender flesh on either side before lowering his mouth to the place Hanzo ached. A ragged moan spurred him on and he kissed the little pucker, letting his beard scratch ever so lightly against his thighs. 

Shudders worked down Hanzo’s body, thighs tensing against Jesse’s shoulders before opening more. He pressed in, just his tongue swirling around the center of his attention. Taking Hanzo apart bit by bit, he stretched the tight ring with just the flexible wet caress of his tongue. 

Hanzo’s hand in his hair dragged him tighter and he ached to give him everything he could ever want. Lapping up from his ass to his balls, Jesse distracted the man as he fumbled in the bedside table.

The lube was pressed into his hand with a firm grasp as Hanzo beat him to it. “Start with just one,” he rumbled around a wide smile before lounging back against the pillows. Indulgently arching his back as he stretched.

Jesse decided to show his appreciation of the view by getting to work. He warmed the lube in his hands, blowing into the cupped shape as if willing a spark to catch flame. Hanzo still tensed a the first touch at the very edge. 

“Sorry, Darlin’,” Jesse cooed, warming the spot as he rubbed the lube in a tight circle. Slowly spiraling out, he wet the pretty pucker and began to work a fingertip inside by degrees.

Hanzo was tight, whole body tensing in a ripple of perfect muscle down his chest and stomach. “I gotcha darlin, I gotcha,” he leaned down to kiss along the top of his thigh as his fingers stilled. He didn’t move until Hanzo was languid, smiling down at him encouragingly.

“Keep going, it’s starting to feel good,” Hanzo murmured, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I look forward to returning the--”

Hanzo broke off as Jesse captured the head of his weeping cock in his mouth. He sucked deep and hard, taking as much as he could while his fingers crooked to search for that perfect spot.

 


	20. Chapter 20

Jesse buried his nose in the coarse hair on Hanzo’s groin, huffing in the intoxicating musk of man. Flooding his lungs, he was greedy in his touch. He lapped over the velvety flesh, tongue tip following the thick vein on the underside higher. Hanzo clenched around Jesse’s fingers, pouring praise down on him like rain. 

Jesse pressed quick kisses up and down his shaft until his lover relaxed to accept him deeper. When two fingers were settled to the hilt inside Hanzo, they both sighed with longing. The wet heat enveloped him and Jesse was drowning in the fire in his veins. He pressed his face back to Hanzo’s groin, nuzzling into his heavy sack as scissored his fingers, slowly stretching his lover open. 

“You, you are excellent at this.”

Jesse snorted and lifted his head. Their eyes locked and Jesse couldn’t keep a smirk from his face. “If you think that’s good.” He sent a wink to Hanzo before lowering his head and slurped Hanzo’s cock deep again. Wet and edging on sloppy, drool running down the curve of Hanzo’s sack, Jesse fervently showered his love with passion.

“More, deeper,” Hanzo ordered and rolled his hips, fucking himself into Jesse’s mouth and fingers. Jesse crooned around his delicious mouthful and crooked his fingers, starting to prod the hot spongy flesh for that perfect spot. 

Every muscle in Hanzo’s stomach tensed and clenched. Jesse braced himself for the hot gush of cum, aching to feel it mark him deeply.

Hanzo’s hands fisted in his hair and yanked him roughly off. An obscene wet pop sounded as Jesse lost his prize. He pouted for a moment, drool shiny and slick on his chin.

“Not so soon.”

“Sure thing, Darlin’,” Jesse relaxed with a lazily smile before nudging a third finger into the man. He held the eye contact, loving every little twitch of Hanzo’s body around his. The fluttering of his breaths and low husky groan barely audible drove him wild.

“I am,” Hanzo took a shuddering breath. “Going to torture you in return.”

“I look forward to it. Gotta let this cowboy do what cowboys do best.” Jesse lazily rubbed circles into Hanzo’s inner thighs as he let him come down a bit. “I wouldn’t trust no one else.”

“Hmm, this is indeed a trust exercise. I am sure it will be implemented in the business world soon enough.” Hanzo laughed, head thrown back.

“How can you make a joke when I’m literally inside you?” Jesse rolled his eyes but his cheeks ached from smiling.

“What better time?” Hanzo’s fingers threaded into his hair again, tenderly soothing it away from his face. “Though, it was very uncouth of me. Pardon my rudeness when you are doing me the pleasure of sucking my cock and fucking my ass with your fingers.”

“That’s more like it.” Jesse lowered his mouth threatening and Hanzo poked his cheek. “Ready to continue?”

“Ah, yes, I am ready to feel you inside me for real, my beloved.”

Jesse shuddered in ecstasy, fighting back a throb of vicious pleasure in his groin at the tender name. “Fuck, say it again.” 

“My beloved, my dear one,” hanzo murmured, slipping into Japanese to continue dropping lovely words of belonging. Each fell like rain in the desert of Jesse’s heart, soaked up and turned to new growth.

He lost himself to the need, rising to press his mouth to Hanzo’s to taste the words. Sweet and soft as they explored each other with tongue and gentle teeth. Hanzo’s blunt nails dug into his back, urging him higher and he couldn’t have stopped it if he wanted.

A low groan bubbled from both of them as Jesse slotted along the shorter man’s cock. He rested his weight on his elbows, undulating in a languid curve to grind them together. Their slight height difference let him press kisses to Hanzo’s temple and back into his hair. Panting as the sun warmed his back and ass from the open window as light breeze stirred the curtains.

Hanzo’s nails dug into him, urging him to go faster but he refused with a chuckle. “Not so quick, darlin’. I’m just enjoyin’ finally bein’ able t’love on you proper-”

He broke off with a yelp, definitely flipped and rolled onto his back by the ninja. “Han!” he complained, the sound melting into a groan at the sight of his his lover above him. Shimmering in the sunlight, every swell and dip of hard muscle cast in brilliant contrast like a statue.

“Fuck, you’re so god damn handsome.” The words left his mouth as a prayer, dick jumping to salute the man. It nestled in the lubed valley of his ass, a perfect fit that had him struggling to not come right then and there. His heart pounded furiously in his ears and his belly tightened as Hanzo put a hand on his chest, pinning him in place.

“I told you I was ready.” Hanzo raised his chin haughtily but a smile danced in his eyes. “The dragon hungers.”

“You are not gonna use that line regularly, are you?” 

“I will do what I desire.”

“So… you’re a dork in bed, good thing that works just fine for me.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes this time and raised his ass off Jesse’s hips. He missed the heat and weight immediately. He made a sound low in his throat, a bit more pleading than he intended. It burst out in a gasped moan as Hanzo wrapped his fingers around his cock. Each digit strong and solid, deliciously textured by years of meticulous bow and hand-to-hand combat. A callous caught just on his glans and he bit his lip to ground himself. 

“You look good beneath me, Jesse,” Hanzo purred the words, punctuating them with a languid twist of his wrist. “Can I ride you?”

“As if you even have to ask.”

Hanzo stilled for a moment, eyes sombering. “I will always ask. I do not own your life now. I am not your boss. I do not have a right to this.”

Jesse’s heart and dick fought for control and he blinked back moisture in his eyes. “Sweetheart,” he reached up, hands sliding over the thick muscle of the man’s sides and over his biceps to cup his cheeks. Gently easing the killer down so he could press sweet kisses to the corners of his mouth. “I love you. Thank you for askin’ and I’m willing t’give you anything. Everything.”

“Then give me your cock.”

“Don’t have to ask again,” Jesse chuckled, sliding them to the head of the bed. He propped himself up with a few pillows, finding a position that let him see all of Hanzo’s face and chest and nestled the man close to his body even within his lap. 

He reached back, hand guided by Hanzo’s to gather his cock. Hanzo’s laid heavy on his stomach, a drop of pre sliding down to drip into his happy trail. They moved slowly. Hanzo braced his hands on Jesse’s shoulders, bringing his chest within reach.

Jesse kissed the firm muscle, licking over the swell. It made Hanzo laugh and arch to press himself into Jesse’s mouth. He lapped to the dusky nipple, swirling his tongue around the hardening nub. It was warm between his lips and he suckled gentled as Hanzo sank down by degrees.

“You’re such a tease,” he rumbled, switching to the pec with the dragon tattoo. He held his base, slapping his fat head against the slick between the man’s cheeks. 

“Hmm, indeed.”

They laughed, the sound mingling and shared a sweet kiss. He sank into it with a sigh, loving the tenderness Hanzo showed. “Ready?” he whispered, reaching back to hold himself steady.

“I am ready for you, Jesse,” Hanzo pressed the words into his neck with a flutter of kisses and a scrape of his teeth.

Jesse’s eyes fluttered close, savoring the heat and wetness as he nudged Hanzo’s entrance. His left hand curled into Hanzo’s ass cheek, squeezing lovingly as he pressed inside with a long slow breath. Hanzo’s was hot on his neck, a low whine brought them to a halt.

“Too much?”

“Let me.” Hanzo undulated  in his lap and Jesse bit his lip to keep in a gasp. Powerful thighs held Hanzo half down with ease, swirling his hips and Jesse could only hang on. He curled forward, nibbling at the soft lobe of Hanzo’s ear.

“You’re perfect, baby,” he murmured, voice grasping and drunk as Hanzo took him inch by inch. A primal urge reared in him, hips twitching up and a needy sound poured out of him. Hanzo merely chuckled, glorious and shining in the sun and Jesse found his chin lifted by a fingertip.

“Then why are you not watching me?”

“Can’t look directly at the sun,” Jesse pressed each word into the heated skin of Hanzo’s cheek and throat. “Want you to burn me up.”

“Then make me go supernova.”

Jesse laughed, eyes squeezed closed by his cheeks. He couldn’t help the fluttering of his heart as he wrapped both arms around Hanzo’s waist. “Anything for you.” He moved slowly, rocking his hips up and they both gasped and shuddered. Hanzo was so hot around him, squeezing tightly. Silky delicious heat and flesh that welcomed him as deep as he could go. 

Hanzo’s hands were in his hair, their foreheads pressed flushed. Each beat of his heart mapped out a tune of love and joy that they danced in time with. Bodies and souls aligned and moving together in a steady rhythm that filled the house with sounds of adoration and praise. Sweet needy little gasps and raw growls of desire pouring from both of them in a stream that swept away the lingering worries and fears of the future.

There was only the sanctuary of touch and laughter until they were both spent and pliant. Basking in the late morning sun while their sweat dried and the heat dissipated so Jesse could pull his love into a lose hug. He nosed along the damp strands of hair at the base of his neck, kissing the rosy skin.

“Love you, Hanzo.”

“I know.”

“Hey!” Jesse snorted before teasingly biting into the tender muscle of Hanzo’s muscle.

“What, I can’t enjoy classic films?” Hanzo rolled over in his arms, bringing them face to face.

Jesse grimaced slightly at the sticky mess now pressed between their stomachs but it was forgotten at Hanzo’s gentle kiss. 

“We should get cleaned up. I am sure our children would enjoy a walk along the river.” A whine outside the bedroom door confirmed the dogs were ready to get out of the house for the day.

“Mmm,” Jesse reluctantly sat up, scratching one hairy thigh. “Only if I get to shower with you.”

“I fear it will delay our walk but I am willing.” Hanzo chuckled, pushing sweat hair out of his face. “I look forward to dirtying you again already.”

 

-

 

The sun disappeared behind a thick wall of clouds, a storm rolling in as they strolled along the river’s edge. The cow’s path was well worn and easy to follow, leaving Jesse free to loop his arm through Hanzo’s and ramble about daydreams for the future. 

There was much to look forward too. Mabel and Mama McCree had already been invited up to the house and plane tickets prepaid. The joy of being wealthy, even if it was from his service to a criminal empire, was bright and vibrant in his chest.

“Bonnie, c’mere, girl,” Jesse whistled after the dog, watching curiously as she dashed off. After a rabbit or mouse, he couldn’t tell but Clyde was soon after her.

“How do you feel about cats?” Hanzo asked without looking away from the river. There was a fat leaf bobbing along the clear water that seemed to fascinate him.

_ Cats are good! _ Eva chimed in from behind them. 

Jesse snorted, glancing over to the two dragons. Not much bigger than a bobcat, they disappeared into the underbrush and tall grasses higher on the bank of the water. Eva’s red head popped over the edge as she sat up on her hind legs. Miku joined her, twinning his neck around hers possessively.

“I enjoy a nice lapcat.” He hummed, tilting his head to rest it lightly against Hanzo’s still damp hair.

“Hmm, Miku, how do you feel about assuming a cat’s form?” 

The blue dragon seemed to brighten, whiskers twitching. “I fear having two dragons, no matter their diminutive size, may inspire too many questions from your family.”

“That’s a good point,” Jesse rubbed his jaw, eyes roaming the path back to the house. It was a bright spot in the rolling golden prairie. Rolling clouds on the horizon promised rain and thunder, something they both enjoyed now. Eva’s good mood vibrated between their bond at the thought.

“We are getting two cats then,” Hanzo laughed deep and low from his stomach. “Four children so soon?”

“Guess we’re just ready t’have a family.” Jesse teased, nudging his shoulder into Hanzo’s. The dragons now bounding behind them as two longhair siamese cats. Bonnie and Clyde raced back and forth in the tall grass in front of the group. 

They kept away from the two cats, not fooled into thinking they were normal animals.

“Indeed.”

They fell into comfortable silence, hands linked as they made their way to the house. Hanzo fought a yawn as they climbed the steps, covering it with his free hand. Jesse caught it and his jaw cracked. 

“You’re making me sleepy.”

“We have had a very intense few days.”

“Saying we deserve a nice, long nap?” Jesse wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s waist and leaned in to nuzzle the soft downy hairs at the nape of Hanzo’s neck.

“I believe we deserve all the best. We are vigilante heros now.”

Jesse smile against Hanzo’s warm skin, peppering kisses to the nape of his neck. “You gonna let me suck your pretty coc--”

“Silence.”

Hanzo stiffened, muscles going rock hard and Jesse was pushed aside. He kept his mouth shut, looking down the long gravel drive where Hanzo’s gaze went. There was a long plume of dust rising as a black SUV rumbled down the road. The engine noise rising to where Jesse could hear it now.

“Peacekeeper is in the bedroom still.”

“As is Stormbow.”

“Think it’s going to be a fight?” Jesse shifted his weight to the other foot, hands itching for his gun. Eva hissed loudly at his feet and he stooped to pick her up. She was big, barely fitting in the cradle of his arms.

“I am not sure.”

“What’s the plan?” Jesse rested against Hanzo, just a little. He soaked up the calm, confident aura radiating off the master assassin. 

“We hear them out. Miku, flank left.” The cat slunk away from his master’s feet to disappear into the tall grass near the barn. 

The rumble of the engine grew thunderous and the two faced it side by side. Tension clung to the air, ready to burst into flames. Whoever had found them, was not police and there were plenty of places to hide a body on the farm.

“Whatever happens, we fight together.” Jesse shifted to the balls of his feet, ready to fight.

“Always.”

The dust settled as the SUV stopped directly in front of them. All sleek gloss and chrome, it was blinding in the sunlight. The dragons rumbled, the hunger for chaos and destruction rising despite their diminutive size.

A tall blond man stepped down from the cab and his bright blue trench coat seemed to glow. Hanzo took a sharp breath at the sight and Jesse squinted harder. It was the man from the club last night, the one that had watched them in the parking lot before they went on the hunt. He was clean shaven now and appearance polished to a shine.

“Hello, Hanzo Shimada.”

They bristled together and Jesse’s hand tightened into a fist. He could beat the man’s face into a bloody pulp and started a half step forward. He would kill anyone and anything to keep his family safe. To keep Hanzo from the danger and he knew his love was ready to do the same.

“Peace.” The man held up a hand, a chuckle trying to undercut the tension out of the air. “I am Strike Commander Jack Morrison of Overwatch and I’d like to talk about the work you’ve been doing.”

They shared a long glance, communicating in the quirk of an eyebrow and the smallest uptick of mouth. Hanzo answered for the both of them, nodding his head and gesturing to the stairs.

“Come inside and we will hear your proposal.”

Thunder rolled and the wind rose into a gale, blowing change like raindrops against two men that had found themselves and each other in deception and chaos.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who read, commented and helped encourage this story along. It's been an intense and rough ride but I'm glad to be able to share it with you. If you enjoyed this work, consider checking out some of my other fics.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more McHanzo? You can follow me on tumblr for fanart and illustrations at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/batkatbrown


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